Episode 17, VS7.5 - Lotus Days
by Voyager Season 7.5
Summary: Things are not going well with repairs. Voyager needs supplies and the bureaucrats of the region speak red tape fluently. It's enough to give Janeway a headache. And that's only the beginning...


Episode 17  
Lotos Days  
  
By Penny Proctor  
...And Odysseus landed in the country of the Lotos-eaters, and sent some to   
learn who inhabited it, but they tasted of the Lotos and remained there; for   
there grew in the country a sweet fruit called Lotos, which caused him who   
tasted it to forget everything. When Odysseus was informed of this, he   
restrained the rest of his men, and dragged those who had tasted the Lotos by   
force to the ships...  
  
PROLOGUE  
The Day Before  
After seven years in the Delta Quadrant, Kathryn Janeway had learned to   
catalogue her headaches. There was mild throbbing behind her eyes that signaled   
minor irritation; the general, diffused pain of stress; and the laser beam stab   
of anger and frustration behind her eyes. It was the latter that caused her to   
lean back in the co-pilot's seat on the shuttle Copernicus and rub her forehead.  
"Want a break?" Chakotay asked almost as soon as she raised her hand. He spoke   
quietly; Harry was sleeping behind them, despite the fact that he had managed to   
tuck himself into what looked like a very uncomfortable position on the   
passenger bench. The class-two shuttles lacked the amenities of the Delta Flyer,   
and the bench was the only opportunity other than the deck for horizontal rest.   
"I can handle this by myself for a while."  
Despite her headache, she smiled at him. "That's not what B'Elanna said."   
Voyager's chief engineer had threatened to take Chakotay's replicator rations   
for the next two years and use them to replace the shuttle if it were lost or   
damaged while he was piloting. The Delta Flyer was still grounded after being   
used to supplement Voyager's power, and given the extent of repairs the ship   
needed, B'Elanna was in no mood to add to the workload.  
"Don't remind me. She seems to think her husband is the only member of the crew   
she can trust with one of 'her' shuttles."  
Kathryn smiled. "You have to admit, your record with shuttles is, well, a   
record."  
"Bad luck, that's all. Most of them were lost because we were attacked."  
"It's all the same to B'Elanna."  
He shrugged. "I'm probably lucky she lets me fly one at all."  
The invisible laser streaked behind her left eye again and she winced. "If I'd   
known we were heading on a wild goose chase, I'd have insisted on taking the   
Flyer. B'Elanna could have cannibalized three or four shuttles instead."  
The last few days had been as frustrating as any in the Delta Quadrant. After a   
week of hard work and stretching people and power to the limit, it had become   
painfully obvious that B'Elanna's original estimate for repairs had been overly   
optimistic: Voyager lacked the resources to accomplish the needed repairs   
without assistance. They needed parts and equipment that they simply could not   
replicate or manufacture. Unless one of the four worlds in the region was   
willing to help them, the ship would not be space worthy again.  
The Vordai had seemed the most likely to provide aid. They seemed to be the   
friendliest, and they had the added advantage of being closest. Kathryn asked to   
send a delegation to meet with the Minister of Extraplanetary Affairs and   
learned her first lesson about protocol in this region - in situations such as   
these, planetary officials would consider it an insult if anyone less than the   
highest ranking representatives of the petitioning government (in this case, the   
United Federation of Planets) called upon them. Kathryn had no choice but to go   
herself.  
Ordinarily, she would have taken Tuvok with her, but he was still recovering   
from his injuries and was cleared for light duty only, and Chakotay was the only   
other command-rank officer available. She brought Harry Kim along as well, as   
she could legitimately introduce him as a member of her senior staff and he   
needed the experience.  
The Vordai Minister had received them graciously, listened carefully, and looked   
deeply sympathetic. Then he said, "We would truly like to help you, Captain, but   
you must understand our situation. Things are very tense in this region of   
space. If any of the other worlds think we are providing you with aid in order   
to secure your military support or as part of a secret treaty with your   
Federation, a war will begin. We cannot help you unless all the other worlds   
consent in advance."  
"I understand," she said, hiding her disappointment. "Would you be willing to   
contact them on our behalf?"  
"I could, but it would do no good. You are the petitioner. They will not respond   
to anyone but you. And the petition must be made in person. That is how it is   
done."  
And so they had set off for the homeworld of the Minenne Confederacy. There, the   
Extern Councilor had received them graciously, listened carefully, and looked   
deeply sympathetic. Then she said, "We would truly like to help you, Captain,   
but you must understand our situation," and Kathryn knew what was to follow.  
Several hours later, they'd left Minenne with the sought-for consent and headed   
for Greve, the homeworld of the Grevel-Ash Republic, and had obtained an   
audience with the Secretary of Commerce. The Secretary had received them curtly,   
listened distractedly, and looked as if she would rather be elsewhere. "Captain   
Janeway," she said, "You have greatly disrupted the negotiations for the Treaty   
Planet. It would be best if you would repair your ship and leave."  
Kathryn had forced herself to be calm. "Perhaps I did not make myself clear.   
Although we want nothing more than to leave, we will not be able to unless   
someone helps us. The Vordai are willing to do so; all we ask is that you   
consent to their aid."  
The Secretary's eyes narrowed, making her look remarkably like a beige ferret.   
Her bald head was decorated with a bright green and yellow feather that bobbed   
as she spoke. "And what will your next request be? To colonize the planet   
because your ship is beyond salvage? You cannot have the Treaty Planet. If you   
must colonize, you can be subsumed into the Vordai or the Minenne, if they will   
have you."  
"Madam Secretary," Chakotay said, sensing Kathryn's frustration, "you must   
understand our situation. We understand how tense relations are in this region   
and we don't want to cause any more disruption than we already have. Our Captain   
has vowed to get our ship and crew home or die in the attempt. If the Vordai are   
not permitted to help us -" he stopped, letting his silence imply that in such a   
case, Kathryn would be required to die.  
Kathryn valiantly held her neutral expression despite Chakotay's exaggeration   
and Kim's bug-eyed reaction to it.  
"Really? A Death Oath?" The Secretary opened her eyes and looked at Kathryn with   
interest. "Well. That puts things in a different light." She stood abruptly. "If   
the Gunrath'u Oligarchy does not object, then we will not, either. You really   
should have gone to them first, Captain. They've got enough power to veto   
anything the three other worlds agree on."  
So now they were on their way to Gunrath, the home of the Gunrath'u Oligarchy,   
and Kathryn's head was pounding. She glanced over at Chakotay. "Tell me - how   
did you know the Secretary would react to that 'home or die' statement?"  
He grinned. "While you were finishing up with the Minenne Extern, I spoke with   
his aide. He mentioned the tradition of the Death Oath as being the ultimate   
indicator of sincerity for the Grevel-Ash. And I didn't think I was   
misrepresenting your position."  
"You might have warned me." She rubbed her head again, thinking, what will   
happen if the Gunrath'u won't agree? How will I get us out of this one? How did   
I let us get in this position in the first place? "Did he give you any tips on   
how to impress the Oligarchs?"  
His smile faded. "He said obsequiousness works best."  
"Fine. If I have to get down on my knees and beg, I'll do it as long as they   
give their consent." She would grovel if she had to; how could she not? How   
could she let her own ego supersede the crew who had died in the Borg attacks,   
the Borg who had died at her hand from biological weapons, the choices that had   
left her ship grounded and perhaps mortally injured? Pride was a luxury she   
could no longer afford.  
"Don't worry," he said with a slight smile, "if anyone can charm the Gunrath'u   
Oligarchy, it's Kathryn Janeway. I should know. Look how you won over me and the   
Maquis."  
Reaching across the gap between them, she touched his arm. The gesture was old   
between them now, and felt reassuringly familiar. "Flattery will get you   
nothing, but I am glad you came."  
"Kathryn-" he began, but was interrupted by the sudden shrill of an alarm   
klaxon. "There's a ship approaching, rapidly."  
Eyebrows arched, she turned to her console. "We're being hailed," she reported.   
"A Gunrath'u ship. I'm responding."  
He glanced at her. "That was easy. I didn't think we'd find them for another   
five hours."  
She leaned back and smiled. "Maybe we're going to be lucky for a change."  
ACT ONE  
Day 1- Morning  
She drifted in a blue-white fog, feeling pleasantly light. It was like floating,   
she thought, floating on a lake on an early autumn day, when the sun was still   
high but the air starting to turn cool. The smell was wrong, though. The smell   
was sterile, like a laboratory where they worked on delicate equipment. But she   
was lying down. Why would she be lying down in a laboratory?  
She opened her eyes and found herself staring up at a mauve ceiling with an arc   
of soft lights pointing back at her. It was unfamiliar, and she felt the   
pleasantly buoyant sensation fade quickly. When she tried to sit up she realized   
that her arms and legs were restrained. The last remnant of pleasure faded.  
"Good. You're awake. I'm Dr. Vela," a brisk voice said, and she turned her head   
to the right. A woman with lavender hair and wearing a white lab coat stood   
beside the bed. She had three pronounced ridges on the bridge of her nose, and   
two more on each cheekbone.  
"Where am I?" she asked the doctor. "What happened?"  
"This is a medical ward." Vela checked a small datapad for information. "What's   
the last thing you remember?"  
"I - I don't know." Concentration was useless; worse, it was like walking   
through a strange room in the dark. There were shadows and silhouettes that she   
couldn't quite make out and that turned to smoke when she reached for them.   
"It's all a blank."  
Dr. Vela smiled with what looked like satisfaction. She touched a button on the   
side of the bed and the restraints retracted. "All right then. Go into that room   
and clean up. You'll find a uniform there for you. Then come out and you'll be   
taken to your interview."  
"My interview? A uniform? I don't understand. What happened to me? Why don't I   
remember anything?"  
"Just do as you're told, and everything will be explained." Vela's tone made it   
clear she was running out of patience.  
Staring at the doctor, she considered for a moment. Dressed in only a thin   
hospital gown, she felt exposed and at a disadvantage in any argument. She also   
had the feeling that Vela would not respond well to a fuss. The best strategy   
was to cooperate, at least for the moment.  
The floor tile was cold against her bare feet and she shivered. As she headed   
for the door Vela had indicated, she looked around. She saw a male with pale   
blue hair and a ridged face carrying a tray of vials, and green-haired woman   
stood near a monitor, examining a cranial image. There were other beds, but they   
were blocked by screens and she couldn't see if there were other patients.  
There must have been an accident, she decided, and I was injured. That's why I   
don't remember anything.  
The door led to a small wash room with a sonic shower, a sink and mirror, and a   
hook on the wall from which a deep green jumpsuit hung. She moved over to the   
sink and looked into the mirror. The person staring back at her had a smooth   
face, devoid of ridges of any kind; shoulder-length auburn hair and blue eyes.  
It was the face of a stranger. More than a stranger, it was a face that was   
different than any she had seen so far. The face of an outsider.  
She stared for a long time, waiting to find something familiar, something that   
sparked an instant of recognition. When it never came, she turned away, fighting   
a growing feeling of desperation. It was as if she were acting in a play but she   
didn't know her lines; surely someone would realize it soon and hand her a   
script, or denounce her as a fraud and send her home.  
As soon as she was clean, she dressed quickly. The uniform consisted of a white   
pullover top worn underneath a deep green jumpsuit that fit her perfectly. There   
was a large belt that seemed designed to hold tools, although it was empty. The   
boots were the same green as the uniform and had a comfortable heel. When she   
checked in the mirror again, she was still a stranger - a fully dressed   
stranger, but still entirely unfamiliar.  
She came out and looked around. Dr. Vela was busy at another bed, but a young   
man with the same kind of bony ridges on his cheeks walked over to her. His hair   
was light green, the same color as his eyes. "I'm to take you to the interview."  
She wondered whether the green was natural or chemically induced. She also   
wondered at the differences between them. "I'm not the same species as you."  
"That will be explained," he said. He started walking without waiting for her,   
and she frowned. He and Vela both were rude and abrupt, but if she were going to   
get any answers, she had to put up with it.   
The orderly led her to a small room and left as soon as she stepped through the   
doorway. A tall, spare man rose from behind a small desk as she entered, placed   
his hands together and bowed slightly from the waist. "Hello," he said. "My name   
is Hrano. I am your corrections officer."  
"Corrections officer?" She stopped in mid-step, shocked. "Am I a prisoner?"  
Hrano was the same species as Vela and the orderly, with ridges on his nose and   
cheekbones, but he seemed different. After a moment she realized that it was   
because he at least appeared to be acting with genuine friendliness. His amber   
eyes were almost kind as he answered her. "Why don't you sit down and let me   
tell you about it."  
There was a single, hardbacked chair near his desk and she sat down. "Am I a   
prisoner?" she repeated.  
"Yes, you are. You're a convicted felon and this is a penal facility."  
She stared at him, trying to process his words. She was a felon? It was hard to   
believe, but then everything that had happened since she awoke was hard to   
believe. Feeling numb, she asked, "Do I have a name?"  
"Your name is Kathryn."  
"Kathryn." She felt the shape of it, listened to the sound. It meant nothing to   
her. "Why don't I remember?"  
He smiled sympathetically. "I probably should have said that this is a   
rehabilitation facility. Our goal is to use your time here to help you become a   
productive, contributing citizen again."  
"That doesn't explain anything. Why don't I remember?"  
"Your memory was deliberately erased as part of your sentence. You've been given   
a unique opportunity, Kathryn. You have a chance to build a new life for   
yourself, without the burdens of your past, whatever they were."  
Feeling stunned, she stared at him. "My memory was intentionally erased because   
I committed a crime? As a punishment?" The concept was overwhelming. "My God.   
What did I do?"  
"Quite honestly, I don't know anything about your trial. That information is   
sealed. I can tell you that the people who are sent here are those who committed   
a serious crime against the Oligarchy but whose basic character is sound. The   
judge must have decided that your actions were the result of circumstances or   
environment rather than a criminal mentality." There was no doubting the   
sincerity in his voice. "It's not intended as a punishment, but as   
rehabilitation. The memory wipe is done to let your basic character emerge in a   
safe and controlled environment. You'll be given the opportunity to develop a   
work ethic, civic responsibility, even build a family if you choose - all in a   
community that supports you. When your sentence is up, you'll be free to leave   
and take your place in Gunrath'u society as a full citizen."  
She sat motionless, trying to absorb all the ramifications of his words. It was   
hard to think things through the emotions that were roiling within. "But ... I   
could be a murderer and not remember. I can't even feel remorse for what I did.   
That doesn't make sense."  
"You aren't a murderer," Hrano said forcefully, then leaned back and took a   
breath. He said more calmly, "You wouldn't be here in that case. You're just a   
victim of circumstances. I'm going to do the best I can to make your life here   
decent. It can be, you know. Try to think of it as an opportunity to start   
over."  
Finally she said, "A second chance? This is all about giving me a second chance   
without a lot of baggage to hinder me?"  
"Interesting phrasing. Yes, essentially that's it."  
Still she sat without moving. Something felt very wrong about the whole   
situation, but she felt off-balance and unprepared to confront it. After a   
moment she took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten. It was obvious that   
he wasn't going to answer any questions about her past, so there was no point in   
dwelling on it. "Are you Gunrath'u, or am I?"  
"I am. You ... to be honest, I don't know what your people call themselves.   
There are only a few of you on our island." He smiled slightly. "Does that mean   
you've accepted the situation?"  
Kathryn shrugged. "There doesn't seem to be much I can do to change it. We're on   
an island?"  
"Yes, an island on Gunrath. You need to know, Kathryn, that a chip has been   
implanted in your brain. It receives a signal from a transmitter located at the   
center of the island that has a limited range. As long as you remain here,   
you'll be fine. But if the chip ever loses the signal from the transmitter, it   
will begin to emit a homing signal - and that signal can cause brain damage, and   
even death, if it goes on more than a few minutes. That is the only restraint on   
you. Other than that, you will be free to live your life as you choose."  
He folded his hands and looked at her earnestly. "The work is hard, and the   
conditions are less than optimal, but if you don't like your job assignment,   
we'll find you a new one. If you need help with training or with coping with   
your new situation, you'll get it. The living quarters are serviceable and more   
or less all the same, but if you don't like yours, we can change them. As long   
as you give us your best efforts, we'll do our best to make your life   
comfortable. How does that sound?"  
"It sounds," she said slowly, searching for the right words, "as if   
rehabilitation truly is the aim here."  
Hrano smiled broadly. "I'm glad you think so. If you're ready, you'll be taken   
to your assigned position. Your supervisor will help you settle into your   
quarters after your work shift. Are you ready to get to work?"  
None of it felt right. There were questions building inside her head so quickly   
she couldn't separate them yet. But, despite his phrasing, she recognized a   
dismissal when she heard one. The interview was over. She stood. "Yes, sir."  
Day 1 - Evening  
A high-pitched siren screamed through the factory-wide communications system,   
and Kathryn looked up from her console. In a day of learning new processes, many   
of which had aural cues, that was a sound she had not heard before. "What's   
that?"  
Across the floor, her supervisor smiled. "That," Emanni said with a smile, "is   
the end-of-shift signal. Your first day is done."  
Kathryn relaxed for the first time in several hours. "It went quickly."  
"You caught on quickly. I'm impressed, actually. Logistics and Transport is   
considered one of the more demanding posts. Most novices need at least a week to   
learn the systems." She stripped off the skin-tight gloves and dropped them in a   
hamper, indicating that Kathryn should do the same. "Why don't you join my   
husband and me for dinner? Our apartment is on the way to yours. Then we can   
show you where your quarters are."  
"Thanks." Kathryn liked Emanni already. The supervisor was not Gunrath'u; she   
said her species was called Minenne. Like Kathryn, she had no visible facial   
ridges but her skin was a deep golden color and she had a short cap of black fur   
instead of hair. The most noticeable difference, though, was the grace with   
which she moved. She didn't walk so much as flow, Kathryn thought. "If you don't   
mind someone whose contribution to the conversation is likely to be nothing but   
questions."  
"No problem. My husband loves to answer questions." Her eyes twinkled.   
"Sometimes I ask him things just so he can have the fun of knowing the answer."  
"I doubt he'll know the answer to my questions - I want to know who I am and   
what I did to wind up a prisoner."  
Emanni's eyes flashed with warning. "Not here," she said quietly. "Never talk   
about that here."  
Kathryn followed Emanni through the maze of the warehouse and crowds of workers   
until they were finally outside. The warehouse, she saw, was at the end of a row   
of connected buildings marked only with numbers. They looked a little seedy, as   
if in need of attention if not repair. "What are those?"  
"The rest of the factories. You saw the components we were loading today. Each   
one is made in a different factory - the fuel pods, the power relays, the   
communications arrays, the sensor modules. Once they're constructed, they come   
to Logistics and Transport for shipment to the warehouse at the sky berths,   
either for new construction or for repair and replacement." She tilted her head   
to the left, a gesture which Kathryn had come to recognize as an expression of   
satisfaction.  
"You're content," she said, then regretted it. "That was presumptuous. I'm   
sorry."  
"Don't be." Emmani patted her hand. "I'm hoping that you and I will be friends   
and friends can ask personal questions. Yes, I am content. I have a husband I   
love and a job that gives me satisfaction."  
Kathryn shook her head. "Forgive me if I say this all feels a little surreal. I   
have no memory, I'm told I committed a crime but not what it was, and that I'm a   
prisoner - and yet, I'm strolling down a public sidewalk talking about jobs and   
families. It doesn't fit."  
"I know," Emanni said sympathetically. "I felt the same way at first. We all do.   
Give it time. Eventually you'll see, this really is wonderful chance to start a   
new life."  
"Don't you ever wonder about before? About what you did to wind up here?" It had   
been bothering her all day, the fact that she didn't know anything about   
herself. Had her crime been of violence, or of deceit? Had she been an engineer,   
or a physician, or a writer or a politician? Did she have family someplace,   
mourning her - parents or children or a husband? The questions had piled upon   
each other steadily throughout the work shift.  
"Yes." Emanni spoke quietly. "It's only natural, I suppose. In time the   
questions come less often and more quietly. Life goes on, you know, and as this   
life becomes more real to you the need to know the past will fade. And," she   
said, brightening, "we can't do anything about the past so I prefer to focus on   
the future. And the present. And here we are."  
They stopped walking, and Kathryn realized they had reached a small building   
that appeared to be from a different era. It was only three stories, and looked   
to be built of wood and brick and other natural materials. The contrast to the   
modern duranium and transparent aluminum construction of every other building   
she had seen so far was striking.  
Emanni opened the door to a small antechamber that had three other doors. "There   
are three apartments in this building," she explained. "We're on the third   
floor." When they reached the top of the steps, they entered a large, open room   
with furniture that looked comfortable and homey.  
"This is nice," she said. "Do all the quarters look like this?"  
"More or less. Single and couples quarters are the same size - a main room, a   
bedroom, bath and kitchen. Family quarters are larger." Emanni smiled. "And   
families are encouraged. If I know my husband, he's probably on the deck."  
She led Kathryn through the main room to curtained double doors that revealed a   
large balcony with a magnificent view of the ocean. Kathryn stopped, enthralled.   
The apartment building backed up a cliff that rose some thirty meters above the   
water. The land that sloped to the shore was thickly treed, sporting dozens of   
shades of green and yellow leaves. "This is beautiful," she said.  
Emanni had already moved beyond the doorway. "Ah. I told you he'd be here."  
Kathryn's eyes opened a little wider when she saw the man clearly. Emanni   
laughed at her expression. "Kathryn, I believe you've met my husband. Hrano, you   
remember Kathryn?"  
"Of course," the corrections officer said. He seemed startled to see her, almost   
afraid, Kathryn thought, but then dismissed the notion. "I had no idea Emanni   
would bring you by. Welcome. How was your first day?"  
"Not bad," she admitted.  
"Good." He paused awkwardly, then gestured to his left. A man wearing the black   
and silver uniform of the fuel pod factory rose from a chair as Hrano spoke. "I   
brought a new friend home as well. Chakotay, this is my wife, Emanni, and her   
friend Kathryn."  
Kathryn shivered once as she looked at Chakotay. He was from her species; his   
coloring was darker than hers and he had a tattoo on his forehead, but he was   
definitely one of her people. She felt a surge of attraction - no, she corrected   
herself, kinship. Yes, surely that was it. Kinship. Instinctively, she held out   
her right hand. "I'm glad to meet you, Chakotay."  
"It's mutual," he said, shaking her hand briefly. His grip was firm and warm.   
"It's good to see a similar face."  
"It's Chakotay's first day, too," Hrano said. He still looked distinctly   
uncomfortable.  
Emanni laughed as she sat. "I'm sorry. I've broken that silly regulation again,   
haven't I?" She turned to Kathryn. "You aren't supposed to meet any other   
newcomers for a while yet. For reasons I don't understand, it's against   
regulations." Then she cocked her head and smiled at Hrano. "Fortunately, an   
official is here to testify that it happened accidentally."  
Hrano's expression had been stern when she began but melted into open adoration   
by the time she was finished. "I guess we can overlook it this time."  
She threaded an arm through his. "See why I like him? Relax, Hrano. It's for the   
best. They can probably both use a friend."  
"Watch out," Hrano said wryly. "She's matchmaking again. She's been doing a lot   
of it since we got married."  
Chakotay was still looking at Kathryn, and his look was plainly admiring.   
"Either way, I'm grateful."  
She was pleased by his reaction to her but not ready to admit it, and certainly   
not ready to encourage any matchmaking on her behalf. "Don't speak too soon. One   
thing I've learned today is that I'm bossy and opinionated."  
"That's all right. One thing I've learned today is that I'm remarkably   
tolerant."  
Kathryn laughed. "I have a feeling we're going to get along just fine."  
Day 5 - Voyager  
Tom Paris entered the Captain's ready room with a stack of PADDs and a bad   
attitude. The attitude was attributable to three facts: even though he and his   
wife were sleeping in their quarters again instead of a shelter, neither of them   
had managed more than three hours of sleep the night before; the paperwork he   
had been forced to assume in his temporary role of acting first officer was   
overwhelmingly irritating; and Lt. Commander Tuvok was sitting at the Captain's   
desk. As far as Tom was concerned, Kathryn Janeway was the only person who   
belonged in that chair and it annoyed him to see anyone else sitting there, even   
temporarily. "Acting first officer Paris reporting," he drawled. "Here are the   
latest updates from Engineering you requested."  
Tuvok regarded him calmly. "Have you prioritized them?"  
"How? I have it on pretty good authority from the Chief Engineer that everything   
is top priority right now."  
"Returning the warp drive to maximum efficiency is our first priority. Defensive   
capabilities follow that."  
Tom sat down and shuffled through the PADDS. "According to this, main power is   
back for the long term, barring any more fried relays. We have full impulse   
capacity but warp drive is still offline and will be indefinitely, unless the   
Captain's mission is successful and we can get replacements for the plasma   
relays. Even if we get the warp system working we won't be able to use it until   
we have access to a spacedock to repair the damage to the port nacelle strut.   
This is why the Chief Engineer is a little cranky today."  
Tuvok accepted the PADD. "Just the summaries, Mr. Paris. The editorial comments   
are unnecessary."  
"Sorry. This says," and he lifted up another PADD, "that shields are at 60% and   
they still think 100% is doable within the week, assuming the Doctor's treatment   
works on the rest of the gel packs. And since we've got power to all the crew   
decks again, we're striking the outdoor dormitories. The only facilities still   
set up on the planet surface are the temporary mess hall and the tents for   
anyone who wants to camp out. That should make our unwilling hosts happy."  
"Indeed. That is good news."  
"Enjoy it, because that's all there is. The structural repairs are on hold until   
the replicators are on line again. Phasers are also off-line still and the   
torpedo system is operational only on a manual basis. The secondary relays have   
been fried. B'Elanna is exploring the possibility of cannibalizing the relays   
from holodeck one, but she isn't optimistic that will work."  
Tuvok took the report, scanned it and set it aside. "Let us hope it will not be   
necessary to try. With any luck, the Captain has been successful in obtaining   
the consent of the four worlds to permit the Vordai to help us."  
"Shouldn't they have reported in by now?"  
Tuvok managed to frown without actually changing his facial expression.   
"Considering that their last message stated they would be out of communications   
range for up to six days, they are not yet overdue. It could be another full day   
before they contact us again."  
Something in his voice made Tom anxious. "You're worried, aren't you, Tuvok?"  
"I am not worried." Tuvok hesitated, then added, "I am, however, uneasy."  
"Uneasy? As in, you have some kind of hunch?"  
"It does not require a 'hunch' to recognize that we have experienced a great   
deal of bad luck recently."  
"And things never go as planned when the Captain and the Commander are on the   
same away mission." Tom shook his head. "I didn't know you believed in luck."  
"Luck is nothing more than statistical probability. At the moment, however, the   
probability seems high that the worst of all possible outcomes may have   
occurred."  
"Well, that cheers me up no end." Tom stood. "I think I'll go check on the com   
system to be certain it's still functional. I don't want to miss a message from   
them."  
Day 7 Gunrath  
Life on the island wasn't that bad, Harry thought as he dutifully followed his   
supervisor down the street. He had decent living quarters, and already begun   
making friends. His neighbor, a blonde-furred Minenne named Esla, had taken him   
under her wing and introduced him to her circle of friends. They were about his   
age, and a couple of them were musicians. Harry had discovered that he liked   
music, and was trying to write a song for one his new friends to play. He'd even   
seen a couple of members of his own species across the lane at the grocer's, but   
he hadn't met them yet. He figured he would introduce himself the next time he   
saw them.  
Things on the job had just taken a giant leap forward. Initially, he had been   
assigned to the communications array assembly line, working grueling ten hour   
shifts with antiquated robotics and waldoes to construct delicate chips. Just   
this morning, though, his supervisor had told him to leave the line and report   
to the maintenance team. He was now a trouble-shooter and repair expert,   
spending his days moving from place to place instead of indoors in the assembly   
line. Yeah, life wasn't so bad.  
Corgish, the pudgy, bald Grevel-Ash prisoner assigned as his job trainer,   
stopped suddenly. "Here we are."  
"Central Administration?"  
"Their equipment is just as bad as the rest of the island," Corgish said   
cheerfully. He was almost always cheerful. "We aren't a priority for the   
Oligarchs when they approve the annual budget." He led Harry through the lobby   
to a door of gold-toned filigree, which slid open as his touch and revealed a   
lift. "Third floor."  
Harry looked around the narrow chamber. "This thing is an antique."  
"I prefer to think of it as a classic," Corgish said with a grin. "Look, the   
only way to be successful in this job is to be invisible. I mean, you have to be   
quiet and kind of blend in with the scenery. Do that, and you can learn a lot. A   
lot. But if you call attention to yourself, you'll be back on the assembly line   
before you know it." The lift stopped suddenly, tossing them both off balance.   
"Third floor. Here we are."  
They heard the voices as soon as they stepped off the lift. Harry stopped as he   
heard the unforgettable cut-crystal voice of Dr. Vela say, "Don't fight me,   
Hrano."  
Corgish held up one hand, signaling Harry to remain quiet. His eyes were dancing   
with delight.  
"I'm not fighting," came the weary voice of the corrections officer. "But you're   
asking me to approve an unbudgeted expenditure. I just want to understand."  
"All you have to understand is that I need a new molecular scanner." Vela's   
snappish tone softened suddenly, becoming almost a purr. "If you approve it, we   
can all be happy. If you don't, well, the next time I see the General I just   
might have to mention how chummy you're getting with the prisoners. I don't   
think he'd like that. I don't think he'd like that at all."  
"She wins," Corgish whispered. "She always wins."  
In a moment, Dr. Vela sauntered out of Hrano's office, smiling broadly and   
carrying a datapad. She passed Corgish and Harry without acknowledging their   
presence, and Corgish looked relieved. "Like I told you," he said. "Invisible."  
He started toward Hrano's office, and Harry followed dutifully. The door was   
open, and the corrections officer was sitting at his desk, with his head   
balanced on the palm of his hands. He looked up when Corgish cleared his throat.   
"Yes?"  
"Computer maintenance, sir. You put in a work order?"  
"Oh. Right. The stupid thing crashed again. See what you can do for it." He   
rose, and snatched his jacket from the back of his chair. "I'll be back in an   
hour."  
To Harry's surprise, he stopped directly in front of him. "Harry, isn't it?"   
Hrano asked. "You just arrived."  
"A week ago," Harry said.  
"And promoted to maintenance already?" Hrano looked at him thoughtfully. "You   
must be good."  
"Yes, sir," Corgish said. "One of the best we've seen."  
Hrano looked at him for several seconds, long enough that Harry began to feel   
uncomfortable. Then he pulled his jacket on with a jerk and said, "Get to it,"   
and walked out.  
"That was weird," Harry said.  
"Oh, Hrano's not bad," Corgish said. "Truth be told, I think he may actually   
give a damn about us, which is more than you can say for Vela or the others.   
Come on, let's see what's giving his computer fits."  
  
Day 9  
The sudden beeping on the shuttle bay control console caused Kathryn to look up.   
Emanni was sitting on the floor, holding her head with both hands. "What's   
wrong?" Kathryn asked, hurrying over.  
"Nothing - the controls - a shuttle's coming-"  
Frowning, Kathryn went to the console and entered the commands to permit one of   
the robotic cargo shuttles to dock, then knelt beside her friend. Emanni's eyes   
were normally a deep gold but the shade varied with her mood and now they were   
frighteningly pale. "Don't tell me nothing's wrong. Your eyes have turned almost   
white."  
"It's just a headache," she whispered.  
"That's more than 'just' a headache. I'm going to call the medic."  
"No." Emanni gripped her wrist tightly. "Don't."  
Kathryn studied her closely. "You're frightened. Why?"  
"I - sometimes I remember things, Kathryn. Little things that don't make sense,   
but I know they're memories. If the medics find out, they'll either transfer me   
to a different facility or try another wipe. I don't want to lose what I've got   
here."  
"Is that what happened? You just remembered something?"  
"Yes. I was on a ship, looking at a navigation console. That's all." She smiled   
weakly. "Help me up. I'm the supervisor - I can't be taking a break when a   
shuttle's coming in. I'm all right."  
Her eyes were regaining color, Kathryn saw and reluctantly helped her stand. She   
placed both of her friend's hands on the console. "All right. You supervise.   
I'll do the work."  
The process of loading the transport shuttle took nearly an hour and Kathryn had   
to concentrate the entire time in order to cover her role and Emanni's. By the   
time she finished, though, Emanni had recovered substantially. She was able to   
stand without gripping the console and her eyes were the soft yellow color of   
butter. As the fully loaded ship departed, she turned to Kathryn. "Thank you.   
You did a fine job."  
"Emanni -"  
"Kathryn, I have to ask you to forget what I told you. It is dangerous for me to   
have said it, and for you to have heard it."  
"But surely -"  
"I mean it, Kathryn. Now let's get back to work. We have the manifest for   
tomorrow's shipment. Confirm the inventory."  
The clipped tone was so unlike her friend that Kathryn could not be offended.   
Emanni was obviously deeply troubled.  
*****  
Chakotay was waiting for her at the end of shift, standing near the factory exit   
despite the soft, persistent rain. It had become their habit to meet there and   
walk together, sometimes to stop at the grocers, sometimes to share a drink with   
others from work, sometimes simply to go far as her apartment building; his was   
two buildings beyond. She smiled when she saw him. "I thought the rain might   
scare you away," she said, linking her arm through his.  
He wore a waterproof jacket but he was not using the hood and his bare head was   
soaked. "Feels good, actually. The environmental system was acting up today, and   
it was hotter than an oven."  
"Did they get it fixed?" She frowned; he worked in the fuel pod injection   
assembly, and heat was dangerous for the volatile liquid.  
"More or less. It never reached the red zone." He looked down at her. "What   
about you? Tough day?"  
She hesitated. Although Emanni had begged her not to tell anyone what happened,   
it didn't feel right keeping a secret from Chakotay. Since that first night,   
they had met every day after work just to talk. Living without a past, she had   
discovered, was not merely frustrating but also isolating, and the connection   
she and Chakotay were forging was increasingly important to her. "Something odd   
happened," she said slowly. "Emanni thought she had a flash of memory."  
He stopped short and looked at her intently. "She remembered something?"  
"Possibly. At first she thought so, but then she said it was just an   
hallucination brought on by a killer headache." She bit her lip. "She was   
terrified, really terrified, that her memory might come back. Part of it was   
that she thinks she'll be sent away if she remembers, but part of her is afraid   
of what she might have been or done before."  
"There is that." He began walking again, although more slowly. "Don't you ever   
worry that you're befriending a serial killer?"  
"I could ask you the same thing," she said lightly.  
"I asked first," he replied, and she realized he was serious.  
"No, I'm not worried. If you were violent by nature or even just plain mean, I'd   
have seen it by now. " She sighed. "Maybe the Gunrath'u are on to something. If   
we were forced into bad choices by circumstances, perhaps it's easier to start   
over with a clean slate."  
"You sound like you're accepting this."  
"Maybe I'm just getting used to the idea."  
He shook his head. "I wish I could say the same. The idea of someone else   
controlling my thoughts, my memories - it makes me angry. It's not right,   
Kathryn. No matter what their motivation is, it's just not right. What if they   
made a mistake? Did you ever wonder if perhaps you were innocent?"  
"Sometimes," Kathryn said slowly, "when I try to think about before, I feel ...   
I can't explain it exactly, but I feel heavier. Something about the past weighs   
me down. I'm still curious, but I don't feel as desperate to know as I did at   
first." Then she shrugged. "I'm not explaining it well, I know. Want to stop for   
a drink and I can try to do better?"  
"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to take a chance on my cooking. I went   
overboard at the grocer's and there's more than I can eat myself before it goes   
bad."  
It would be the first time they had eaten together alone, and she found she   
liked the idea. "Sounds good."  
They walked a bit further without speaking, comfortable in each other's company.   
The rain let up enough that Kathryn lowered the hood on her jacket and looked   
up, trying to decide if it had stopped for good. As she did, she saw his   
expression change. "What is it?"  
"Just now - déjà vu, I guess. I felt like I've seen you do that before." He   
paused, then added, "I had a strange dream last night, and it gave me the same   
kind of feeling."  
"What was it?"  
"A man called me 'son' and told me I was lost. He said I had to find my way   
back."  
He seemed so disturbed that she stopped walking. "Lost. We've been feeling that   
way, haven't we? But I think we are finding a new way."  
"I like the sound of that," he said. He let go of her arm and turned to face   
her. Then he took her right hand in his left and intertwined their fingers.   
"Finding our way together."  
She looked at the way their hands were meshed. It felt right. Nodding slowly,   
she said, "I think I like it, too."  
ACT TWO  
Day 10 - Voyager  
"Diplomacy?" B'Elanna asked, staring at Tuvok incredulously. As her due date   
approached, she was becoming increasingly ill-tempered. "The Captain, Chakotay   
and Harry are missing and you want to be a diplomat?"  
Tuvok sat at the head of the conference table, in the Captain's spot. The senior   
staff meeting was uncharacteristically small. "Given the current condition of   
the ship, Lieutenant, diplomacy is our only option. Even if it were good policy,   
Voyager is not in a position to threaten the worlds of this region. Their   
technology may be slightly behind ours, but this ship is still seriously   
damaged."  
"They don't have to know that," she countered. "They don't know anything about   
us. I thought the Corbomite Maneuver was required reading at the Academy."  
"Unlike Captain Kirk, I do not bluff."  
"I agree," the Doctor said, and everyone turned to look at him. "Commander Tuvok   
is correct. Remember, the Captain has already asked three of the worlds for   
help. And even if she didn't tell them everything about our situation, we can't   
assume we can fool these people. Look at the Vordai - their scanners were far   
more accurate than ours even though their weapons are years behind. Our   
technology may be superior on average, but there are too many individual   
differences that make up that average."  
"So," Tom said. "Where does that leave us? The Grevel-Ash say our people left   
there for the Gunrath system but never arrived. The Vordai say they had a ship   
that disappeared too, so they want us to take one of their investigators along   
with us. Then what?"  
"Then," Tuvok said, "since the end proved unhelpful, I suggest we begin at the   
beginning. Go back to Vordai and retrace the path the shuttle took."  
"That will take forever," B'Elanna said, clearly upset.  
"That is an exaggeration," Tuvok said. "However, it will require patience."  
"Terrific," Tom said. "Check the inventory, Tuvok. Patience is in short supply   
right now, along with power relays and spare gel packs."  
"No, we've got a better supply of gel packs," B'Elanna said. "No disrespect   
intended, but the crew wants our people back."  
"As do I. But for the present, I know of no other way to accomplish that aim."   
Tuvok paused. "Is the Delta Flyer space worthy, Lieutenant?"  
"Give me three more hours."  
"We'll leave in four, then," Tom said.  
"Correction, Mr. Paris." Tuvok rose. "I will leave in four hours, accompanied by   
Mr. Tessoni and Mr. Neelix. You will assume command of Voyager in my absence and   
oversee the repairs."  
"What?" Tom nearly choked. "You can't do that. You're acting captain. You're   
supposed to stay here."  
"Under different circumstances, I might agree." Tuvok regarded him coolly.   
"However, we already know that the governments of this region will communicate   
only with the most senior representative of the ship. That is now me. And as we   
are running as low on senior staff as we are on patience, it is not logical to   
risk you as well."  
"Tessoni I understand," B'Elanna said, frowning slightly. "He's Security but   
he's also got a pilot's rating. Why Neelix?"  
"We also know that the governments of this region tend to be bureaucratic. Mr.   
Neelix is skilled at circumventing bureaucracy when necessary." Tuvok looked at   
the three. "Any other questions? Then, Mr. Paris, tell the Vordai that their   
investigator is welcome to join me. If he can reach Voyager in four hours, he   
can board here, or he can meet me at the Vordai homeworld."  
  
Day 12 -Gunrath  
Harry entered the fifth floor of the Administration Building and immediately   
felt his stomach shrink. This was the medical ward, and the sight of it brought   
back the confusion and fear he had felt when he woke up with no memory.   
Sometimes he still woke up in a cold sweat at night, wondering where he was and   
why he was there.  
The other two members of his species, Chakotay and Kathryn, claimed to have   
similar reactions when they talked one night at the tavern. Most of the rest of   
his friends said it would pass, that he would get used to life on the island.   
During the day he could believe that. At night, he knew better.  
'Be invisible,' he reminded himself as he made his way across the ward to Dr.   
Vela's office, and it helped settle his stomach. She was seated at her desk, but   
looked up when he reached her door. At first she seemed displeased, but then the   
color of his uniform and the box he carried explained his presence.  
"It's about time," she said. "I've been waiting for hours. Do you have any idea   
how impossible it is to practice medicine here without direct access to the   
Medical Library?"  
"The Director sends his apologies, ma'am. I'm to install the new components for   
you immediately."  
She rose and gestured to a panel. "Get to it."  
The flashing of a red light overhead interrupted his work and everything else on   
the ward. Vela grabbed her surgical tunic and threw it on over her blouse. Harry   
left his work and went over to the door, watching the organized pandemonium in   
the ward. Everyone seemed to be running to accomplish a specific task. It was   
like a battle drill, he thought, only he did not think this was a drill.  
Then, just for an instant, he wondered why he thought of battles. Had he been a   
soldier? Was his crime connected to military service?  
Then the turbolift doors opened and two men dressed in the silver uniform of the   
Security Force pushed a gurney through the door. Someone in the orange uniform   
worn by the workers in the Deflector Assembly, Harry couldn't tell if it was a   
man or a woman, was writhing in silent agony, hands covering the face.  
Vela stepped out and snapped at the guard, "What happened?"  
The man looked down at the body on the gurney. "He was fishing at Harbor Point   
and apparently drifted past the safety marker, poor devil."  
"Get him into surgery." Vela turned on her heel and stalked down the corridor.  
Harry went over to one of the guards. "What happened? I don't understand," he   
said.  
"He went beyond the transmitter range. It's clearly marked but the currents can   
be strong at Harbor Point and we get one or two of these a year." The guard   
shook his head. "It would be kinder if Vela just killed him. If he lives, he's a   
goner."  
"A what?"  
"A goner. You know, gone. No one home." The guard tapped his forehead. "You a   
fisherman?"  
Glancing at the gurney, Harry said, "If I was, I'm not now." He turned and went   
back into the office to finish the task of repairing Vela's communication   
console, feeling deeply troubled. His administrative officer had told him about   
the chip but he hadn't thought much about it before this.  
He'd be thinking about it tonight, that was for certain.  
Day 15 - Delta Flyer  
Tuvok sat erect in an uncomfortable chair in the office of the Minenne Assistant   
to the Extern Councilor, who was reviewing records with what seemed to Tuvok   
unnecessary slowness. The alien's cap of fur was marmalade orange streaked with   
gray, and he had pulled out a pair of pince nez to read the report. He scanned   
it, sighed, read it again, sighed, and began reading it again.  
Tuvok cleared his throat. "Is there a problem, Mr. Secretary?"  
"My apologies, Commander. I wanted to be certain I did not mislead you. Your   
Captain was indeed here, twenty days ago, with a letter of introduction from the   
Viceroy of the Vordai Inner Circle. She, Commander Chakotay and Lt. Kim met with   
the Extern Councilor. He sympathized with her - with your - situation but felt   
unable to offer the assurances she sought without the concurrence of the   
Grevel-Ash Republic and the Gunrath'u Oligarchy. They left here with the stated   
intent of seeking out the Grevel system."  
"Thank you," Tuvok said, "but as you know, I have come here directly from   
Vordai. We have already confirmed that our people were here and at Grevel, but   
they never arrived at Gunrath. My question was whether any of your ships   
reported any sign of them after they left Grevel."  
"No, I'm afraid not," the Assistant said. "Our last notation of them is their   
departure." He rose, signaling an end to the interview. "Good luck in your   
search."  
Tuvok nodded once and returned to the corridor, where he found Neelix and   
another Minenne waiting for him. "Any luck?" Neelix asked hopefully.  
"The Councilor could not add anything to what we already know."  
"Well, perhaps Inspector Shertra here can," Neelix said. "Inspector, this is Lt.   
Commander Tuvok."  
The tall Minenne raised both hands to waist level, palms up, and inclined his   
head. The iron gray cap of fur gave the impression of age, but he was lean and   
obviously quite fit. "Lt. Commander. I work for a different segment of our   
government. I am authorized to tell you that over the last three years, we too   
have lost small ships in the area of space in which your craft was last   
reported. If you are willing to share information we may be able to solve both   
our mysteries."  
Tuvok studied him for a moment, then said, "Would you be willing to join us on   
our search? We are currently working with a representative of the Vordai and I   
suspect the Grevel-Ash will also wish to participate. Your data will supplement   
theirs as well as ours."  
Shertra hesitated. "We do not have a cooperation agreement with the Grevel-Ash."  
"Do you need a formal treaty to solve a crime?" Neelix asked.  
"Good point. I will speak with my superiors."  
"Please do so expeditiously. I plan to depart for Grevel-Ash in an hour."  
"I'll notify you of my response. It is an interesting proposition." Shertra   
turned and left.  
Neelix fell into step beside Tuvok as they left the building. "I'm surprised,   
Tuvok. Why would you want to involve another investigator?"  
"When there is this much finger-pointing going on, Mr. Neelix," he said, "I   
prefer to have all the fingers in one place at one time."  
Day 15 - Gunrath, Evening  
By the time the sun set on Treaty Day, Kathryn knew she had not enjoyed herself   
so much in a long, long time. It wasn't simply that she didn't remember it; the   
buoyancy in her spirit seemed to lift her body, and she knew that was because it   
was a rare thing.  
Treaty Day, the celebration of the declaration of peace between the Minenne and   
Gunrath a decade earlier, was the only planetary holiday on which no one, not   
even prisoners, worked. The factories were closed, the production lines silent.   
Even the lowliest of the low were given the chance to revel in the rewards that   
military might and determined leadership could bring.  
At least, that was how General Tenglis phrased it on his address to the planet   
in the morning. Tenglis was one of the Five Oligarchs who led the Gunrath'u in   
peace and war, and since Treaty Day celebrated a military victory, it fell to   
him to make the expected speech. Kathryn and Chakotay joined the 500 or so other   
prisoners in the streets, where giant screens had been erected, to watch the   
formal commemoration from the capital city. As the display went dark, a cheer   
went up and all 500 workers headed for the parties.  
And there were plenty of parties to choose from. A picnic on The Beach (it was   
the only stretch of sand on the entire island, so it needed no other name), a   
rather wild game of some nameless contact sport on the East Field, and an   
all-day dance on the Pier at Harbor Point were just a few of the options.   
Chakotay and Kathryn decided on the picnic first, and the dance later.  
They had played in the sun all day, walking along the shore, playing a game   
called netball that pitted two teams on opposite sides of a net with the goal of   
keeping a ball in bounds and in the air as long as possible, and sharing a late   
afternoon meal with Hrano and Emanni. Hrano had brought along a bottle of   
sparkling wine for the occasion.  
Chakotay lifted his glass in the air before sipping. "To friends," he said.  
Kathryn raised her glass as well, but Hrano and Emanni were both looking   
confused. "Oh, dear," Kathryn said, "I think we have a cultural gap here." Then   
she looked at Chakotay. "Can you explain this?"  
He didn't so much as blink. "Not at all."  
"I think that what we're trying to say," Kathryn said, "is that we are grateful   
for your friendship and your help."  
"And that you introduced us," Chakotay added. He clinked his glass against   
Kathryn's. When he saw that Hrano looked even more confused, he said, "I don't   
know why. It's just done."  
Emanni's eyes had turned the color of burnished gold, a sign that she was   
feeling sentimental. Almost shyly, she touched her glass to the other two. "I   
haven't had many friends here. Knowing the two of you has been - it's been   
wonderful."  
Hrano couldn't take his eyes off his wife, but he added his glass to the group.   
"In the name of friendship, then."  
They had left the beach after that to change for dancing. Kathryn had splurged   
on a dress of a deep ocean blue, passing on a less expensive one in a rich shade   
of red. The red dress had been flattering enough but somehow the color made her   
feel constrained. She loved the way the blue dress flowed against her as she   
moved.  
Chakotay apparently felt the same way. He had said that she looked lovely, but   
it was his eyes that told her the truth - to him, she was beautiful.  
The Pier had been lined with paper lanterns, casting it in a soft light under   
the two full crescent moons. The band was at the far end, and the music was   
piped all the way to the beach to allow the most room for dancing. They stood   
for a moment, taking note of all the different styles and steps being performed.  
"I don't think I'm much of a dancer," Kathryn warned him.  
"I suspect we're equal there." He opened his arms. "Want to take a chance?"  
She stepped into place, and was surprised by how easily it came to her. The   
music was in three-quarter time and they began to move in synchronous steps.   
They looked at each other in a moment of shared amazement, and then he suddenly   
became daring, twirling her down the Pier. They danced together almost   
effortlessly, as if they were partners of long standing. Kathryn couldn't seem   
to stop smiling.  
The next number was in 5/8 time, and they both stood still for a moment to   
listen. "How does anyone dance to that?" she murmured.  
"Like that, I guess," he said, and she saw that a number of couples were   
engaging in jerky, ungraceful yet synchronized movements.  
"That is not for me," she said. "Care to sit this one out?"  
He didn't let go of her. "Why not dare to be different?" He pulled her closer   
than before and began to sway.  
She lay her head against his chest and sighed. "Fine idea." For a moment she   
closed her eyes and ignored the frenetic dancers around them. The oddly-timed   
music was not so bad like this, she thought. It was almost provocative, like a   
tango. The pulsing bass seemed to take control of her heart and change its   
rhythm to match. Chakotay was affected, too; she could hear his heart in   
matching beat.  
Then she heard her name and opened her eyes. Harry, the younger member of their   
species, was dancing energetically with a golden-furred Minenne woman less than   
a meter from them. He saw that she had seen him, and waved.  
When the song ended, one of the musicians gestured to Harry and he came over to   
talk to him. Then the musician walked away, leaving Harry holding his   
instrument, a long cylinder of polished wood with more keys than Kathryn could   
count. Harry looked at it for a moment, then smiled, then put it to his lips.  
And magic came out.  
Kathryn and Chakotay stopped at the same time, watching in fascination as Harry   
explored the instrument. The sound was mellow, warm and oddly recognizable.   
Around them, others listened appreciatively and began to clap and whistle their   
approval. Harry kept the music coming, faster and livelier and moving into   
higher registers, until the audience was stomping with him, urging him on.   
Finally, incredibly, he landed on a note at the top of the instrument's range   
and held it, and held it, and held it for an impossibly long time. When he   
finally yanked the mouthpiece away so he could gulp air, the crowd went wild.   
Harry flushed deeply, from pride or embarrassment or both.  
"Look at him," Kathryn said softly. "He's so happy."  
"He's found his touchstone," Chakotay said. His hand, resting on her shoulder,   
squeezed slightly.  
They danced until midnight, until the band played its last number and the paper   
lanterns were extinguished. They danced until there was no one else left on the   
Pier but the two of them. They danced until they heard the half-hour-to-curfew   
warning.  
"Oh." Kathryn knew they should be leaving, but wasn't ready. She looked up and   
circled around, delighted. Three moons shone down: one nearly full, one half and   
one crescent. "Look at those moons. It's a beautiful night."  
He didn't look up at all. "Yes, it is."  
"You aren't even looking."  
"Yes, I am."  
She held out her hand. "Let's take the long way home."  
"The shore walk?" He took her hand and twined his fingers with hers. "We'll have   
to hurry if we're going to make it home before curfew."  
"Let's live dangerously." Between the wine and the moonlight and the feel of his   
hand in hers, she felt almost giddy. "I feel like taking a few chances."  
Hand in hand, they walked in companionable silence on the shore path. The light   
of the three moons reflected off the wave crests, white light making diamond   
patterns on black water. "You know," she said, "one of the benefits of having no   
past is that everything is new again. Look at that. Isn't it beautiful? And I   
feel like I've never seen it before."  
"I'm not sure I see it as a benefit," he said. "There is something to be said   
for experience."  
"Perhaps. But did you see Harry's face tonight when he realized he could play   
that instrument? It was pure joy." She shivered and without thinking, she let go   
of his hand and wrapped her arm through his, pressing close to him as they   
walked.  
"Are you cold?"  
"A little."  
He extricated his arm from her grasp and enfolded her with it, pulling her even   
closer. Her head fitted neatly into the crook of his shoulder. "And have you   
found a benefit to that?"  
She smiled. "Perhaps. I'll let you know."  
"You amaze me. Most of the time I'm ready to curse them all for cutting off my   
past, and you find a reasons to be grateful for what's happened to us."  
They walked a few more steps before she replied. "It bothered me a lot, at   
first. But lately ... lately I've been thinking that I must have done some   
dreadful things, because I honestly don't regret my lack of memories any more. I   
feel..." She bit her lower lip and let the words trail off.  
"What?" he encouraged gently.  
"I feel free. Like a weight has been taken away. I don't think I felt like that   
before."  
He stopped walking and with his free hand, tilted her chin until she was looking   
at him. "You didn't do anything dreadful, Kathryn."  
It was suddenly hard to breathe. "You can't know that."  
"I know you. Memory wipe or not, you're not the kind of person who does dreadful   
things."  
"Thank you," she whispered. It was a relief to hear him say it; until that   
instant, she hadn't known how much she had worried about her past.  
She expected him to pull back, to resume walking again, but he didn't move. They   
stood still, his eyes fixed on hers as if he were searching for something.  
"I know you," he repeated in a voice that sounded almost amazed. Then his hand   
slid to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as his mouth   
descended on hers.  
Oh, yes, she thought, as she shifted to hold him, to meet him. This feels right.  
"Hey, there!"  
A bright light hit them in the eye and they jumped apart. A security guard stood   
a couple of meters away, smiling in amusement and swinging a palm light. "You   
better save it, folks. You've got three minutes to curfew."  
They grinned at one another, and Chakotay grabbed her hand. "Come on!"  
They were nearly three blocks from the street with Kathryn's apartment and the   
warning lights were flashing as they reached the entrance to the building. She   
didn't let go of him, but pulled him in with her and into the turbolift. Only   
then did she drop his hand and bend over, gasping for air and laughing at the   
same time. When she could finally talk, she said, "We - we made it."  
He was breathing so heavily he could barely talk. "But we - we've got - a   
problem."  
"Oh?"  
"It's past curfew. I can't leave this building until morning."  
"So stay with me."  
She waited to see his reaction. He surprised her. He said nothing, but clasped   
her shoulders and looked at her searchingly. Her heart flipped over and she   
became afraid that something was wrong.  
Finally he said, "I don't want to push you."  
Her fears melted into a smile that came from her heart. "You're not. I'm ready.   
Stay with me tonight."  
Day 16 - Gunrath, Morning  
Kathryn lay on her side, deliberately keeping still so she didn't disturb   
Chakotay. She wanted a few moments to herself, a few moments to study him and to   
think.  
His face was peaceful as he slept, and his mouth was curved upward in the   
slightest of smiles. As well it should be, she thought with some satisfaction,   
after last night.  
Last night. Last night had been extraordinary, she thought. Even though her body   
told her that last night was not her first experience, she had suddenly become   
as nervous as if it had been. He had sensed it and gone slowly, exploring her,   
letting her explore him, until the nervousness subsided and then was replaced by   
desire and need and urgency.  
The intensity of the passion was not the only reason it had been so special. She   
had learned things about him, things that she had suspected and hoped. He was   
patient, far more patient than she; he was strong, but he knew when to keep the   
strength in check and when to use it; and he was seeking a partner, an equal. It   
was gratifying to know that her instincts about him had been right.  
His mouth twitched slightly, and the smile deepened. She looked at him   
suspiciously. "You're awake, aren't you?"  
Dark eyes opened, and the smile became a grin. "Good morning."  
"Good morning." Now that he was awake, she felt free to surrender to the   
temptation she'd been fighting and began to stroke his chest lightly "Sleep   
well?"  
His hand reached, his fingers threaded through her hair. "Very."  
She shivered. The things this man could do to her with a simple touch. "Do - do   
you want some breakfast?"  
"Maybe later."  
She gave a soft sigh as he pressed a kiss against her neck, and let her head   
fall back, giving him better access. "Chakotay? That was our first time   
together, wasn't it?"  
He stopped what he was doing and looked into her eyes. She meant more than   
simply their first time on Gunrath. "I think so," he said slowly. Then he smiled   
at her, a wicked smile that made her bones melt. "But it's not the last."  
Breakfast could wait, she decided.  
  
ACT THREE  
Day 20- Voyager  
It was well past 0200 when Tom finally made it to his quarters, and he expected   
to find B'Elanna asleep. Instead, she was sitting on the sofa with the   
television on but the sound turned off. "Hey," he said, "you should be in bed.   
You're sleeping for two, remember?"  
"Tried," she said, and laid a hand on her belly. "Apparently she's not in the   
mood."  
He sat down beside her and hooked an arm around her shoulders, but she didn't   
relax. "Uh huh. Something tells me she's not the only one in a mood."  
"Don't patronize me."  
"I'm not." He moved his arm, though. "I'm trying to find out what's wrong."  
"Nothing."  
"Right. That's why you're watching Bugs Bunny with no sound."  
She frowned. "I don't understand why the duck isn't dead. The hunter keeps   
shooting him, but all that happens is that his beak gets rearranged. And the   
rabbit isn't even scorched."  
"That's what makes it funny."  
"What's so funny about it? Life isn't like that. In real life, if someone   
shoots, you're dead. Or you're vaporized. People get shot all the time and it   
isn't funny."  
He finally understood, and closed a hand over hers. "I'm worried about them,   
too."  
B'Elanna opened her mouth to argue, but then she let herself relax. Laying her   
head on Tom's shoulder, she said, "Gilmore is beside herself. I think she really   
cares about Harry."  
"Yeah, I know."  
"I gave Chakotay such a hard time about the shuttle. I hope he knows I was   
joking."  
"He does."  
"I've got this terrible feeling that we're never going to see them again. I want   
our daughter to know them. I want our family to be whole."  
Tom nuzzled against her hair. "I do, too."  
  
Day 20 - Gunrath  
Chakotay set down the stem bolt and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The   
environmental controls of the fuel pod factory were malfunctioning again, and   
the place was heating up quickly. He and the three other workers in his unit had   
stripped down to the waist an hour ago. If the temperature didn't drop soon,   
production would have to shut down; the liquid fuel stored in the massive tanks   
was heat-sensitive until injected into the protective pods. In sustained high   
temperatures, the delicate chemical balance would begin to 'destabilize' - the   
supervisor's euphemism for 'explode'.  
Most of the time, his job was mind-numbingly easy. The injection process was   
fully automated and generally worked well. Hollow pods, more than two meters   
tall and wide enough to hold three grown men, rolled up to four huge tanks   
filled with fuel. Robotic arms opened the three load ports and the infusion rods   
extended and the pumping began. When the precise amount of fuel was loaded, the   
rods retracted, the ports closed, and the pods rolled on to Logistics, in the   
next building.  
His role as a technician was quality control, to take random samples and assure   
the integrity of the fuel and to be on hand for spot repairs if any glitches   
developed in the system. Glitches developed with some regularity, but usually   
could be handled in a matter of minutes. In fact, most of the time he was so   
completely bored that the rising heat was a welcome distraction.  
If it weren't for Kathryn and the life they were building outside of work, he   
would have been despondent. When his mind wandered, it was to her and just   
thinking about her made him smile. Every day he discovered something new about   
her, and today he had realized that one of the things that drew him to her was   
the energy with which she attacked life. She brought the same passion to   
redesigning the Logistics and Transport process for greater efficiency as she   
did to her efforts to grow vegetables in a window box.  
A red light began to flash. "That's it. We've got to drain the tanks," his   
supervisor called from the other side of the room. "Everyone over here."  
'Everyone' consisted of Chakotay and two fellow technicians, and all three   
dutifully crossed to where the supervisor waited. The supervisor opened a panel,   
revealing a manual switch. With a great deal of effort, he twisted it. "Listen   
up," he said. "With the automated system down, we have to do this manually. I   
just opened the drains to the catchments below the building. Your job is to   
monitor the levels in the tanks and tell me when they're empty. We have to close   
the drains again or any residue that's left here will ignite and travel all the   
way down. And that, people, would not be good."  
He showed them how to open the visual monitors and check the levels. It was the   
first time Chakotay had actually seen such a large volume of the liquid fuel; it   
was dark pink and so viscous it was almost a gel, and it drained very slowly.  
His tank was almost empty when he thought of something - they had been   
spot-checking filled pods when the environmental controls went offline, and   
those were still sitting on the test beds across the room. "What about those   
pods?"  
The supervisor shook his head. "They're sealed, so they should be safe."  
The tech to Chakotay's right suddenly turned pale. "Oh, no, I left one open, I   
think -"  
Chakotay realized he was flying through the air before he heard the explosion.   
At least, that was the way his mind processed it. He was flying, the room was   
engulfed in a white light, and then there was a thunderclap.  
The wall stopped his flight and he was thrown to the floor. He felt a tearing   
and a burning in his throat, and then in his lungs as well as he breathed smoke.   
Coughing only increased the pain.  
He dragged himself to his knees and looked around. One of the pods on the test   
beds had exploded, flinging fireballs of gelatinous fuel everywhere. Where was   
the fire suppression system? Why wasn't it active?  
The room was beginning to fill with pinkish-gray smoke. It was getting hard to   
see. He began crawling toward the door, but his hand came down on another   
person. He knelt closer. It was the tech who had been on his right. He felt for   
a pulse, and found none.  
There were others in the room, he remembered. He continued crawling, trying to   
stay below the rising smoke. The other tech was only a meter away, but she was   
also dead. He found the supervisor only when he heard the man groaning and   
followed the noise.  
"We've got to get out," Chakotay told him. "Can you move?"  
"Drain. Close the drain..." the supervisor moaned. "Then hit the emergency   
vent."  
Chakotay understood. If they didn't close the drains, the fire could get into   
the tanks and travel to the catchments, resulting in an explosion that would   
probably destroy all the factories. Moving as best he could, he made his way to   
the panel on the wall and dragged himself upright. A sharp pain made it   
difficult to breathe, and he thought he must have at least one broken rib.   
Turning the drain control required more strength than he knew he possessed, but   
somehow he got it done.  
Dropping to his knees, he returned to his supervisor and began to drag him   
toward the door. The room had never seemed so big before. Finally, he got them   
both into the corridor, and heard the door shut behind them.  
The corridor was flashing with a red light and he heard people shouting. "Here!"   
he heard someone say.  
"Vent," he gasped. They needed to hit the emergency control and vent the oxygen   
from the room.  
"Got it," the voice said, and Chakotay let himself lose consciousness.  
*****  
"All right, you can go home," Dr. Vela said, "but you have to remain sedentary   
for at least 48 hours. Your ribs and your lungs need rest to heal completely."  
"Thanks," he said, fastening the shirt she had given him. He wasn't up to   
something that pulled over his head.  
"Don't think you're fooling me. I know how stubborn you heroes can be, so I've   
arranged for a nurse to keep an eye on you." She raised a hand, signaling   
someone behind him.  
"I don't need a nurse," he protested.  
"I cook, too," Kathryn said from behind him, and he turned around.  
Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and she had dark circles under   
her eyes, as if she had been awake the entire eighteen hours he had been in   
treatment. He was so struck by her appearance that his fingers fumbled with the   
fasteners.  
"Here," she said, "let me." Moving closer, she moved her fingers quickly over   
the three remaining strips. Then she bowed her head until her forehead rested   
lightly against his shoulder.  
He closed his arms around her, suddenly aware of the preciousness of life. She   
must have felt the same way, as she held him as carefully as if he were a gift.   
"Let's go home," she said.  
Day 30 - Voyager  
Crippled as she was, Voyager's bridge bustled with as much activity as if she   
were in orbit. "We are receiving data from the Delta Flyer," Ensign McMinn   
reported from the Ops station.  
Sitting in the command chair and feeling damned uncomfortable in it, Tom Paris   
nodded. "Begin analyzing in accordance with the parameters from Commander Tuvok.   
Astrometrics, begin parallel analysis."  
"Aye, sir," came the virtually simultaneous response from McMinn to his left and   
Megan Delaney over the comm system.  
There was nothing to do now but sit back and wait. Tom had gained a lot of   
experience in waiting over the past few weeks, but he still didn't like it. He   
would have preferred to be on the Delta Flyer with Tuvok and the others, no   
matter how crowded the smaller ship had become. No, scratch that, he thought, he   
would be prefer to be on the Flyer with Tuvok sitting right here, on Voyager's   
bridge.  
After correlating all the data from the three investigators, it had become clear   
that ships from all three worlds - the Vordai, the Grevel-Ash and the Minenne -   
had been disappearing from the same corridor of space for the past three years.   
Until now, none of the worlds had admitted it publicly or checked with one   
another for possible explanations. Even now that they realized they had a common   
problem, they were too suspicious of one another to let one world or another   
take the lead in the investigation.  
The situation had come to a head when the Flyer reached the last confirmed   
position of the missing shuttle. Tuvok has suggested that a specialized scan of   
the area might yield new clues. However, a scan of the nature he proposed was   
beyond the capacity of the Flyer. Since the Vordai possessed the most   
sophisticated scanning technology, he requested the assistance of a Vordai ship   
- which was promptly rejected by the other two representatives.  
As the situation threatened to deteriorate from bickering to actual hostility,   
Tuvok suggested an alternative plan. The Flyer could scan the area and relay   
information back to Voyager for analysis. As a neutral party, Voyager posed no   
threat to the security of any of their worlds.  
And so, Tom Paris sat and waited while data streamed from the Flyer to Voyager   
and other people monitored and analyzed it. He hated waiting.  
Then McMinn shouted from the Ops station, "I think I've found something."  
Tom looked up at the young woman and saw that her face was pink with excitement.   
"What have you got, Jamie?"  
"It's very faint, but I think it's a coherent path of polarized hadron   
particles."  
Tom hit the comm system. "Astrometrics, can you confirm an apparent path of   
polarized hadron particles?"  
"Confirmed, Lieutenant," Megan Delaney replied.  
The Delaneys and Icheb had spent the past three days recalibrating the system to   
detect even subatomic residue from the missing shuttle. It might be paying off,   
Tom thought, trying to contain his excitement; polarized hadron particles were a   
by-product of class 2 shuttle engines, and Voyager's shuttles, rebuilt several   
times, tended to leak more than the norm. "I'm going to Astrometrics," he said   
rising. "I want a comm link open to Tuvok by the time I get there. "Mr. Ayala,   
you have the bridge."  
He almost ran from the turbolift to the Astrometrics Lab. Everyone working in   
the Lab was staring at the display. It showed an intermittent trail of   
particles, enhanced to a glowing red by the computer, that ended abruptly.   
"Bingo," Tom said softly. Relay this data to the Flyer. Tuvok, stand by to   
receive our report. I think we've found the trail."  
"Very good, Mr. Paris. The report is coming in now," Tuvok's voice came over the   
comm system.  
"It's definitely residue from a ship," Jenny said. "The thing is, there is no   
way to be certain that it came from our shuttle."  
"Excuse me." A different voice came over the comm system. Tom touched a control   
on the main console and the screen split in two, showing the particle trail on   
the right and the Delta Flyer on the left. The speaker was the Vordai   
investigator, a short, slender being of indeterminate gender named Lam. "We may   
be able to help in that regard. No Vordai ship would leave such a residue. Our   
engine designs are quite different from yours - there is no dilithium in our   
systems."  
"It could theoretically be Grevel-Ash," said Dasson Vre, the Grevel-Ash   
investigator, "but we've had no military or commercial traffic in this sector   
for six weeks. It would have to have been an unauthorized ship." Her tone   
implied that no self-respecting Grevel-Ash pilot would dare make an unauthorized   
flight.  
"What about the Minenne?" Tuvok turned to Shertra, who was frowning deeply.  
"No, it could not be Minenne." He offered no explanation. "Commander Tuvok, the   
trail ends abruptly. It does not dissipate or scatter, it simply ends. Could   
your ship have been destroyed?"  
The question caused Tom's heart to turn over. Icheb spoke up quickly. "It is   
extremely unlikely, Investigator Shertra. Had the ship been destroyed, the   
distribution of the particles would be very different, covering a larger area   
and dispersed in a more random fashion."  
"What caused that abrupt end, then?" Dasson Vre asked.  
"The logical hypothesis is that the shuttle's engines went off line at that   
point," Tuvok said.  
"Then where did it go?" Lam, the Vordai, asked. "It didn't just disappear."  
"Not without engines," Tom said. "It must have been taken aboard another ship."  
Shertra made a small hissing sound. "Can you adjust your scanners to search for   
traces of orium dihydronase?" The other two investigators looked at him in   
surprise.  
Voyager's crew looked confused. "We have no data on that substance," Tuvok said.   
"What is it?"  
After a glance at his fellow investigators, he said, "It is a by-product of   
Gunrath'u warp engines. They use an orium-based fuel in their larger ships."  
Tom looked at Dasson Vre and Lam. Their faces had gone carefully blank. "You all   
think the Gunrath'u are behind this, don't you?"  
None of them spoke at first, but finally Shertra replied. "The Minenne have lost   
about a dozen small scout and cargo ships in this sector over the past three   
years. The presence of my counterparts from Vordai and Grevel-Ash leads me to   
believe that they can say the same. It is possible that the ships have been   
singularly unlucky. But the Minenne are not in a position to accuse anyone   
without proof. If you can locate an orium dihydronase trail, our governments   
will at least have something to discuss with the Oligarchy."  
"Can you give us a molecular diagram of this stuff?" Megan asked. "Maybe we know   
it by a different name."  
"I am not a scientist, and in any event, the Gunrath'u regard the formula for   
their fuel to be a military secret."  
Tom looked at him pointedly. "She didn't ask for the formula. She asked for a   
molecular diagram."  
"I understand," Shertra said, "but even that is considered classified."  
Dasson Vre coughed. "I, ah, may be of some assistance with this. Delta Flyer,   
stand by to receive a transmission."  
Twenty minutes later, Icheb said, "Beginning the new analysis."  
Almost immediately, a bright yellow trail lit on the display. It originated from   
the right of the screen, traveled to the end of the shuttle's red path, then   
turned 90 degrees and ran off the top of the screen.  
Tom managed not to whistle. He gestured to Megan to send the data. "We   
definitely found something, Tuvok."  
Tuvok's eyes narrowed slightly as he reviewed the new data, a change that   
suddenly made him look grim and dangerous. "I believe," he said slowly, "that we   
now have a viable theory."  
Day 36 - Gunrath  
Pounding, ringing, shouting. "Kathryn! Let me in, please! Chakotay! Please!"  
It was Emanni, sounding hysterical. Kathryn rolled out of bed and ran to the   
door without even grabbing a robe to cover her nightshirt. The Minenne woman   
practically collapsed on her, sobbing.  
"Emanni, what is it? What happened?" she asked, leading her friend to the main   
room. Chakotay came out to help ease her on to a chair. "Has something happened   
to Hrano?"  
Emanni lifted her head, her eyes glowing deep orange, and her words tumbled out   
so quickly it was hard to understand her. "I remember. I remember it all. They   
lied to us. It's all a lie. It's all a lie."  
Kathryn knelt beside the chair. "All right," she said soothingly. "You need to   
slow down. Take some deep breaths."  
"How did you get here?" Chakotay asked. "It's after curfew."  
"What?" Emanni turned to him, and looked at him blankly. "Curfew?"  
"It's after curfew," he repeated patiently. "How did you get here?"  
"I - I ran," she said. The question seemed to be helping her focus. "I had to   
get away from Hrano. I didn't see any guards." She took a huge gulp of air and   
then seemed to settle down a little bit. "I remembered everything. At first I   
thought it was a dream but then I woke up and it all came back to me." She   
grabbed Kathryn's hand. "I'm not a convict. I'm a pilot for the Minenne Star   
Navy. Pilot First Class Emanni ad Vienne of the scout ship Seeker. My ship was   
stopped illegally by a Gunrath'u warship and we were taken prisoner for no   
reason."  
Kathryn swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "Are you sure? Couldn't it have been   
a dream?"  
"It's my whole life. My parents, my sibs, my schooling... no, it's not a dream."   
Her face twisted into something like a snarl. "The Oligarchy can't be trusted.   
We're taught that as children. They had to wipe our memories to get us to work   
for them."  
The door chime sounded again, and kept sounding as if someone were leaning on   
it.  
"If that's Hrano -" Emanni began.  
"Did he threaten you?" Chakotay asked.  
"No, he didn't say anything, nothing at all. He just ... looked at me."  
The chime kept sounding. He stood. "I'll go."  
Emanni closed her eyes and looked away, but said nothing.  
Kathryn positioned herself on the arm of the chair where Emanni sat, creating a   
partial shield for the distraught woman. She was feeling stunned by what she had   
heard, and uncertain what to believe.  
Chakotay returned, bringing Hrano with him. Emanni's eyes darkened to red, and   
with a snarl she suddenly leapt from the chair and attacked her husband, her   
hand pounding against his chest.  
Kathryn moved swiftly, grabbing her friend from behind and tugging her back,   
while Chakotay tried to pull Hrano away. Hrano, meanwhile, was trying to catch   
Emanni's hands and stop the assault. When none of them were successful, Kathryn   
changed tactics; she took hold of Emanni's right arm and forced it up her back,   
and leveraged her to the side. Chakotay took advantage of the moment to pull   
Hrano back.  
Emanni howled in frustration and struggled against Kathryn's grip. Her   
fingernails, always pointed, had extended into claws, and her free hand raked   
bloody trails across Kathryn's arm. Surprised, Kathryn increased the pressure on   
the arm she held. "Stop it," she said. "Stop it now."  
The authority in her own voice surprised her, and apparently surprised Emanni as   
well, because she stopped struggling and blinked. Her free hand dropped to her   
side and the claws retracted. For a moment, Emanni's heavy breathing was the   
only sound in the room.  
"Tell them," she finally said. Her eyes had faded to dull orange but her voice   
was ragged. "Tell them."  
Hrano glanced at Chakotay and then at Kathryn before looking evenly at his wife.   
"It's true.. None of you belong here. You were abducted illegally and brought   
here."  
Once again, the room fell silent. They stood, frozen and unmoving. Kathryn felt   
preternaturally aware of her surroundings, of Emanni's tensed body, of the anger   
in Chakotay's eyes, of the sticky trickle of blood on her arm. It was as if time   
had slowed down to let the ramifications of Hrano's words sank in.  
"Why?" Chakotay asked hoarsely, and the moment was over; time snapped back to   
its normal pace.  
"The Oligarchy needed workers." He kept his voice level and his eyes fixed on   
his wife. "We took more losses in the Minenne War than were disclosed. Then,   
five years ago, an epidemic killed hundreds in the labor class. If other worlds   
know we're vulnerable, war will begin again."  
Kathryn tightened her grip on Emanni as the claws extended again. "And that   
gives you the right to make us slaves?"  
"No. It doesn't. What we're doing is wrong and I'm ashamed to be part of it."  
Emanni made a spitting sound, but no move toward him. The claws retracted again.  
"You should go now," Chakotay said.  
"Not yet. Please." Hrano turned to him. "I want to explain."  
"We've heard enough."  
"Let him speak." Kathryn glared at Chakotay, then let Emanni go and glared at   
her as well. "He's the only one of us who knows the whole truth."  
Chakotay looked unhappy but didn't argue; he stepped away from Hrano as if   
distancing himself from a bad smell. Emanni turned and laid two hands against   
the wall, bracing herself with her head bowed.  
"All right," Kathryn said. "Everyone is calm now. Explain."  
Hrano took a deep breath and pressed a hand to his chest. "I was in the military   
during the Minenne War - every adult Gunrath'u was required to serve in some   
capacity. I'm not much of a soldier, so they put me in administration. I am very   
good at administrative details."  
"What does that have to do with anything?" Chakotay asked harshly.  
"I was so good they made me aide to General Tenglis."  
Emanni sucked in her breath, making a hissing noise. "You know Tenglis?"  
"Yes." Hrano cocked his head. "How do you think I got permission to marry you?   
It was completely against regulations. I had to get special permission from an   
Oligarch. The General finally gave his consent but more or less disowned me. I   
can't go back to him for anything more."  
Kathryn said, "Hrano, get back to the point."  
"Oh. Sorry. Anyway, I was Tenglis's aide. When he told me about his idea for   
rebuilding the labor class, I thought it was for the greater good. The only   
thing holding this sector together is the perception of Gunrath'u's strength. If   
the truth were known, the Grevel-Ash and the Vordai would be at each other's   
throats in an instant. Emanni, you know that's true."  
She did not answer him. He turned to appeal to Chakotay.  
"I lost my entire family in the last war - my wife, my parents, grandparents,   
brothers, everyone. And serving with Tenglis, I saw the destruction on both   
sides. When he told me about it, I thought that keeping the peace was worth the   
sacrifice of a few hundred lives."  
"I doubt they felt the same," Chakotay said quietly.  
For the first time, Hrano's face betrayed an emotion as his mouth twisted into a   
self-mocking smile. "That didn't occur to me then. There weren't that many   
people involved; they only go after small ships, and only when the need is   
crucial. It didn't seem to be that much of a sacrifice. Everyone was alive,   
well-treated, even happy. I told myself that we took people against their will   
but we gave them a good life."  
"A false life." Emanni spoke quietly, but the bitterness carried clearly.  
"A new life. They weren't particularly important to me - they had been our   
enemies only a few years before - and whatever they left behind wasn't real to   
me - until..." he looked at his wife. "Emanni, I loved you from the first time   
you smiled at me. Do you remember? It was at the end of the first interview.   
You'd been so despairing when you walked in and by the time we finished talking,   
you were smiling. You were the first one who was real to me."  
Without looking at him, Emanni said, "But you didn't do anything about it. You   
just went on lying."  
"What was I supposed to do?" he snapped. "I'm not in the military any more, I'm   
just a low level functionary. If I'd gone through channels they would have   
removed me - it's in Directive Alpha-6. If I'd gone public, they would have   
killed the prisoners to protect themselves. All they have to do is turn off the   
central transmitter and the suppression chips will self-destruct. It's in   
Directive Alpha-13."  
"You could have gone to Tenglis," she said bitterly. "If he was your friend, you   
could have tried to make him see how wrong this is."  
Hrano chuckled bitterly. "I was his aide, not his friend. The General does not   
listen to former aides and he does not change his mind. He trusted me enough to   
give me this job in the first place. Once I asked permission to marry you that   
trust eroded. Vela watches me like a lab rat, and so do half the Directors. If I   
so much as hint that I sympathize with the prisoners, I'll be transferred or   
killed."  
"Why did you marry me? What were you thinking?" Emanni's voice sounded raw.   
"Didn't you realize how I would feel if I ever remembered?"  
"But I didn't think you would. The memory wipe has only failed once before, and   
Vela swore it was a fluke, a one-of-a-kind happenstance." He paused, then added,   
"And I guess I thought - I hoped - you would love me enough to listen to me, and   
forgive me."  
Emanni turned slowly and faced him. Her eyes were tinged with green. "Did you   
know I have a son? He must think I'm dead."  
He paled. "No. I didn't. They don't give me any histories."  
Kathryn looked at him closely. He'd kept his hand pressed to his chest and a   
dark stain was beginning to spread below his palm. Emanni's claws must have   
inflicted more damage than anyone realized. "You're bleeding," she said.  
"It's nothing."  
Emanni blinked, and the last of the anger in her vanished. "Oh, sit down and let   
me see," she said, sounding resigned.  
He dropped heavily on to the sofa, sagging backward. As Emanni went to him,   
Kathryn moved to stand near Chakotay. He was almost rigid with tension and she   
rubbed his arm gently.  
Emanni opened Hrano's jacket, revealing a shredded shirt and bleeding stripes   
across his chest. "Oh," she murmured. "Look what I did." Then her face crumbled   
and she started to weep, covering her face with her hands and rocking back and   
forth.  
Hrano touched her shoulder tentatively. With a small cry, she buried her face   
into his shoulder. His arms closed around her and he nuzzled his cheek against   
the soft fur of her head. She held herself tightly, not responding to him, but   
she didn't push him away. "I'm sorry," he whispered. His eyes closed. "I'm so   
sorry."  
*****  
The bedroom was dark when Kathryn entered, but she could see that the sheets   
remained thrown back and the bed was empty. When her eyes adjusted, she saw that   
Chakotay was standing by the small window, looking out at the night sky. "I   
can't see the stars," he said without looking away. "It's cloudy, and there's   
too much light from the factories."  
She didn't move. "Come to bed. We have to be up in two hours."  
"How's Emanni?"  
"Sleeping. This whole thing exhausted her, I think. Hrano went home." She   
smoothed out the sheets before climbing into the bed and lying down.  
"I still can't believe how he lied to us." He turned away from the window but   
did not come closer. "He helped turn us into slaves and thinks we ought to   
forgive him."  
"No," she said. "He doesn't think we ought to forgive him. He hopes we will.   
There's a difference."  
"How can we? How can Emanni?"  
"She loves him. And he loves her. If he can think of a way, he's going to help   
her get away."  
"So he says. It's hard to trust him, after he's lied about everything else."  
She sighed. "I know, but I do. If he didn't care about us, he could have called   
security instead of coming over here. He didn't have to admit anything to us.   
And he's not reporting Emanni. He said she's the second Minenne whose memory   
came back; he doesn't know why it happened. He does know that the first one was   
killed." The pillow was soft and cool against her cheek and she burrowed into   
it. The question on her mind was surprisingly difficult to voice, and she spoke   
softly. "If he can get her out, do you want to go with them?"  
"Of course I do. Don't you? Our real life is out there, somewhere. This is just   
a lie." He looked back outside. "I feel like someone else is controlling my   
thoughts. I hate feeling this way. I want to be in control of my own mind   
again."  
Kathryn closed her eyes, not answering. She was suddenly tired of this   
conversation and tired generally. She didn't want to think about what her   
previous life might have been or how they might escape or whether everything in   
this life was unreal. She wanted to go to sleep and forget about the revelations   
of the night.  
After a moment she felt him slide next to her, and felt his hand brush her arm.   
"Kathryn? You want to leave, don't you?"  
She didn't know what to say. They had a comfortable life together, and in recent   
weeks, the past had become less and less important to her. But he wouldn't   
understand that, and she didn't like the idea of being anyone's dupe. "Hrano   
will help us," she said. "We'll find a way."  
His arm slid beneath her and she shifted so that her head pillowed on the crook   
of his arm. "I wish I could be as certain," he said, stroking her hair with his   
free hand.  
"I think," she said slowly, relaxing in the familiar embrace, "that together,   
you and I can do just about anything."  
ACT FOUR  
Day 37 - Delta Flyer  
Crewman Tessoni, manning the Tactical station of the Delta Flyer, said, "The   
Gunrath'u station is hailing, sir."  
Tuvok nodded. "Open the channel, Mr. Tessoni. Let's hear their message."  
"You have entered the space of the Gunrath Oligarchy. Be advised that from this   
point forward, any unauthorized use of scanners or weapons will be considered an   
act of war resulting in immediate attack." Tuvok studied the Gunrath'u officer   
closely. The humanoid male had ridges on both cheekbones and his forehead and   
pale blue hair but otherwise looked similar to Alpha quadrant species. He   
appeared to be studying Tuvok with equal curiosity. "Your ship design is unknown   
to us. Please identify yourself and state your business."  
"This ship is the Delta Flyer, attached to the Federation starship Voyager. I am   
Lt. Commander Tuvok, in temporary command. Our mission is one of peaceful   
diplomacy."  
"Oh? Does your - Federation? - wish diplomatic recognition?"  
"We wish only to make formal first contact; your government is aware of our   
temporary presence on the Treaty Planet. Also, we are ferrying diplomatic   
representatives of the Vordai Circle, the Minenne Confederacy and the Grevel-Ash   
Republic who have urgent business with their respective ambassadors. We request   
permission to proceed to orbit immediately. We further request that you notify   
each ambassador of our arrival."  
The officer swallowed visibly. "Uhh, stand by, Delta Flyer. I'll need to get   
clearance for this."  
"Please do not delay," Tuvok said. "As I said, the business is urgent."  
The screen went dark. From the co-pilot's seat, Neelix said, "You certainly got   
his attention."  
"That was my goal, Mr. Neelix. A coordinated diplomatic overture from each of   
the worlds of this region is without precedent. It must be taken seriously by   
the Oligarchs." He touched the comm control on the chair's arm. "Mr. Neelix,   
please inform our guests that we have made contact and requested immediate   
access to the planet. They may wish to update their governments on our status.   
In particular, please ask Inspector Lam to get an update on the expected arrival   
of the ship carrying our engineering team."  
Neelix lowered his voice so that the three investigators and Tessoni would not   
hear him. "Do you think they're alive?"  
"That is what we will learn." Tuvok betrayed neither hope or pessimism, and,   
knowing that there was nothing more to be said, Neelix went to speak to the   
three investigators.  
Day 38 - Gunrath  
Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the door of Vela's office. "Excuse me,   
Doctor."  
Vela's face settled into annoyance as soon as she saw who it was. "What is it?"  
"Sorry, ma'am, but I need to check your console. Random security check." He   
moved as if reaching into his pocket to withdraw his authorization chip, praying   
that she wouldn't ask to see it. All he had was his grocery list.  
Vela waved a hand. "Oh, never mind. I know who you are. At least your timing is   
good. I have to go check a patient. I'll be back in five minutes and I expect   
you to be gone by then."  
"Yes, ma'am."  
"And tell Director Gilba that these spot checks are most annoying. My computers   
are the most secure on the island." She rose, picked up a datapad and left.  
Moving swiftly, Harry quickly logged on to the medical computer and attached the   
device he'd stolen from the office of the Director of the Communications   
Assembly plant. It was a sniffer, programmed to raid the databanks of computers   
for passwords and security codes. Only the Director was authorized to use it,   
and then only to gain entry to computers when the codes had been changed. Harry   
had liberated it from the Director's desk.  
It began to blink in multi-colored lights, and he quickly interfaced it with the   
portable datapad he carried. A slow smile spread across his face; true to its   
name, the sniffer was working its way through the different levels of security   
on the computer. Then, just to make it look good in case anyone was watching, he   
went through the motions of a regular security check.  
In less than three minutes the sniffer shut down and he disconnected it, shoving   
it down into his pocket. He packed his equipment and left Vela's office, passing   
by her unnoticed on his way to the lift.  
His next stop was the third floor where he went to Hrano's office. Hrano wasn't   
there, and he performed the security check under the watchful eye of Hrano's   
clerk. The woman didn't notice that he left the datapad on Hrano's chair.  
  
Day 40 - Gunrath  
The tiny bean pods growing in the window box were still yellow, but Kathryn   
thought she saw the faintest touch of green beginning to show in them. The   
grocer had told her not to pick them before they turned green.  
Chakotay and Harry looked up as she came in from the balcony. Tiny components   
were spread over the table and they were working with delicate tools. Harry had   
a look of disgust on his face. "We're never going to get a decent transmitter   
finished at this rate. This is like working with stone knives and bearskins."  
"It's not that hard," Chakotay said mildly. "Once we know the frequencies and   
codes, we should finish in a few days. It will be worth it, to know that we   
don't have to worry about leaving the island as long as we're close enough to   
this." He picked up a disk, and a small circuit promptly disengaged from it and   
tumbled to the table.  
Harry flashed him a look that clearly said 'I told you so.' "Just three hours in   
the tech lab at the factory, that's all I need."  
They had told Harry the truth only 48 hours earlier but he was already as   
determined as Chakotay to get off the planet, and his youthful enthusiasm   
compensated for Kathryn's own ambivalence. "You can ask Hrano when he gets here,   
but don't count on it. It was dangerous enough to steal those tools and get the   
frequency for us," she said.  
The mention of Hrano set Harry off in another direction. "Do you think he's got   
our files yet?"  
Armed with the pass codes Harry had taken from Vela's computer, Hrano had   
promised to get copies of the confidential background files on the three of   
them. It was tricky because the inquiry would take some time, and he had to be   
certain he would not be interrupted during the process. At the same time,   
accessing the files at odd hours would have garnered attention. He was trying to   
squeeze the raid in during regular business hours.  
"Perhaps," Kathryn said. "I'll make some sandwiches, that way we can keep   
working."  
She went into the kitchen and was immediately aware that Chakotay had followed   
her. "What's wrong?" he asked.  
"Nothing." Reaching into the bin, she removed a loaf of bread. "Cheese and   
tomato all right?"  
"Why are you doing this?"  
She frowned at him. "Because I want to. Aren't you the one who encourages me to   
cook?"  
"Yes, because cooking helps you take your mind off things that are bothering   
you."  
"That," she said in a tight voice, "is ridiculous. I cook because sometimes I   
like to." Then she brought the knife down on the tomato with so much force that   
it exploded, spurting juice and seeds over the counter.  
He raised his eyebrows but said nothing.  
Staring at the mess, she said slowly, "On the other hand, you might have a   
point." She set the knife down, but didn't turn around. Somehow it was easier to   
say this if she wasn't looking at him. "I'm not sure I want to know what's in   
our files. I know it's important to you and Harry, but frankly ..." she took a   
breath. "It scares me."  
"Why?" He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "What is it?"  
"I'm afraid," she admitted. "Once we hear what's in those files, everything   
could change." She took a deep breath, knowing that he wouldn't understand   
unless she told him everything. The words forced their way past the sudden lump   
in her throat. "I love you. I don't want to lose you."  
It was the first time she had used those words, and he turned her around so she   
could see his face and see the truth of his words reflected in his eyes. "You   
aren't going to lose me. I love you, Kathryn. I can't imagine a life in which I   
didn't love you."  
"But what if it turns out we're enemies, or that we're both married to someone   
else, or one of us has taken a vow of celibacy, or-"  
"Or what if it turns out we've been married for twenty years? We have to know   
who we are."  
"You don't understand." The words whipped from her in rush of emotion. "I've   
told you before, I don't think I'm going to like what I hear. I think I did   
something that weighed on my soul tremendously. Chakotay, I've been happy here.   
I don't think I was before."  
He pulled her close and held her. "We're together. We're going to stay together,   
I promise you."  
She clung to him, trying to memorize the feel of it, his scent, the sound of his   
heart against her ear. It was a bold promise to make and whatever his   
intentions, she knew he might not be able to keep it. If it was all going to   
change, she wanted to remember this.  
The door chime sounded. "That will be Hrano," he said.  
She smiled at him. "A conspirator's work is never done."  
Harry had opened the door and Hrano and Emanni were in the main room already.   
Emanni was subdued, but she had been since regaining her memory. Hrano, though,   
looked troubled.  
"Uh oh." Chakotay sat down. "What is it?"  
"I got a look at your files this afternoon. I'm sorry, there wasn't much there."  
Harry's face fell. "What did they say?"  
"You were all taken from the same ship, a small shuttle. You identified   
yourselves as Captain Kathryn Janeway, Commander Chakotay and Lt. Harry Kim of   
the Federation starship Voyager." He shrugged. "That's all. I can't find   
anything about the 'Federation' and the military has been unsuccessful in   
decrypting the shuttles records. The technology isn't compatible."  
Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager. She repeated it in her head,   
turning it over and over. There was no resonance, no recognition. It meant   
nothing to her. From the disappointment on Harry's face and the lack of reaction   
in Chakotay, she guessed they were experiencing the same thing. "Well," she said   
slowly, "at least we have something to go on."  
"There's more," Emanni said.  
Hrano nodded. "Someone from the office of the Oligarchs accessed your files   
yesterday. That is extremely unusual, and I don't think it's a good sign."  
"Why not?" Chakotay asked.  
"The Oligarchs don't like to get involved in the details. The only thing I can   
think of is that they've received some kind of inquiry about your whereabouts.   
It must be something that worries them or they wouldn't have bothered looking,   
and if they're worried -"  
"They won't want any incriminating evidence walking around," Chakotay finished   
dryly.  
"I'm afraid you're right. That's how the Oligarchs think. "  
"Well," Kathryn said, "it looks like our schedule just accelerated. Harry,   
you're going to have to finish that transmitter without the tech lab and you   
have to finish it by tomorrow night. If you have to narrow the broadcast range,   
do it. We'll find a way to stay close together. Emanni, we need to go over the   
manifest for the next three days. There's got to be a way to get us up to the   
shipyard in a group."  
She paused and realized that Chakotay was grinning at her. "What?"  
"You told me you were bossy," he said. "You were right. You even sound   
different."  
His words brought her up short. "I did, didn't I?" Then she shrugged. "Unless   
you've got a better idea, I think I was right."  
"Yes, ma'am," he said, still grinning.  
  
Day 41- Gunrath, Capital City  
The Audience Chamber of the Oligarchs was designed to impress and intimidate.   
Visitors were kept waiting in a huge rotunda of smooth marble lined with   
larger-than-life statues of Gunrath'u military Oligarchs of years past. They   
looked down on the visitors with stern expressions, promising little in the way   
of compassion. The ceiling was painted in a colorful mural depicting some great   
battle, which the Gunrath'u evidently won.  
Tuvok spent his time waiting looking around, and he was impressed; the artistic   
value of both statuary and painting was excellent. He was not intimidated. He   
was, however, becoming irritated. He had beamed down fifteen minutes earlier on   
the assurance that General Tenglis, the military Oligarch, was available to meet   
with him. Upon his arrival, though, he had been led to the rotunda and told to   
have a seat on one of the marble benches.  
It was a demonstration of power and authority, Tuvok knew, intended to remind   
him that General Tenglis was important and Tuvok was not. He decided it was time   
to demonstrate that his own time was valuable, and he touched his commbadge.   
"Tuvok to Delta Flyer."  
At that instant an aide appeared. "The General will see you now."  
"Stand by." Tuvok said nothing to the aide but indicated that he was ready to   
follow.  
He was led to one of the six corridors that led out of the rotunda and escorted   
into what appeared to be a conference room within a suite of offices. Here too,   
the walls were marble and decorated with paintings with a military motif. One   
large frame held a collection of medals and awards.  
In a moment, General Tenglis entered. He was younger than Tuvok had expected;   
his lavender hair was only slightly streaked with white, and was worn long,   
pulled back severely into a tail. He wore a plain brown uniform, decorated only   
by gold buttons and gold rank insignia - an eagle-like bird, with its wings   
spread. Instead of bowing, as Tuvok had been told was Gunrath'u custom, Tenglis   
merely nodded once and sat down at the conference table. Tuvok did the same.  
"I appreciate the way you've handled this, Commander." His voice was deep and   
stentorian; Tuvok guessed he used it for oration often. "There are many species   
that would have simply tried to attack us in retaliation for what they   
suspected. It's a pleasure to encounter a society that reasons as well as   
fights."  
"Our only agenda is to return to our home. We have no desire to make unnecessary   
enemies." He paused, waiting for the General to speak but when nothing was   
forthcoming he prompted, "I believe your aide mentioned a record of our   
shuttle."  
"Ah. Yes, my apologies. One of our ships did come across a ship of unfamiliar   
design a little more than a month ago." He rotated a monitor so that Tuvok could   
see the picture on display.  
He did not have to look closely. It was a class-2 shuttle with Voyager's   
registration number and the name "Copernicus" beneath it. "It appears to be our   
missing craft. Is there any word of the crew?"  
"The Captain of the Vigilant reported that it was derelict when he spotted it.   
There was no crew aboard. I'm sorry." The General spoke easily, his voice tinged   
with sympathy.  
Tuvok sat still for a moment, studying the monitor. Finally he said, "Would it   
be possible to inspect the shuttle?"  
Tenglis frowned. "We claimed it as salvage. We had every reason to believe it   
had been abandoned."  
"I do not dispute your good faith. However, you know now that it is Federation   
property and I am obliged to reclaim it. Further, there may be some clue as to   
what happened to our missing crewmen. We are a very long way from our home, and   
once we leave here we will not return. This is our only opportunity."  
"Our best scientists have examined the shuttle. I assure you, there is nothing."  
"Nevertheless, I am obligated to look and to reclaim our technology." He paused.   
"I may not initiate the rituals for mourning the dead until we have exhausted   
every possibility. I feel quite certain the ambassadors of the other worlds will   
join in my request."  
The General's frown deepened. "Very well. It is at the shipyards. I'll arrange   
for you to have access tomorrow."  
Tuvok inclined his head. "That is acceptable. Two engineers from Voyager are   
arriving later today on a Vordai ship. They will inspect the ship tomorrow,   
then. And so there is no misunderstanding, we will be taking it with us."  
"Take it," Tenglis growled. "It did us no good."  
Day 42  
Only two minutes remained in the work shift when Hrano, Chakotay and Harry   
entered the Logistics and Transport Building, Main Loading Dock. Kathryn nodded   
to them. "The one on the right," she said, and pointed to one of three fuel pods   
sitting on the conveyor to be loaded on the transport for the spacedock. "We've   
got ninety seconds."  
Harry sprinted toward the pod, but Hrano and Chakotay both hesitated. Emanni   
looked at her husband. "Go," she said softly.  
Kathryn looked at Chakotay. She wanted to touch him, to reassure herself and him   
that this was going to work, but she didn't dare take the time. All she could do   
was smile, and nod, and hope.  
The three men climbed into the pod. Chakotay had seen to it that it passed   
through the assembly line unfilled. It was large enough, barely, to hold the   
three of them, with enough air for three hours. Or so they calculated. Kathryn   
followed and closed the access panel behind them. They were stuffed together as   
best they could manage, but it looked uncomfortable. She hoped none of them   
proved to be claustrophobic.  
When the panel was shut, she reached under her tunic, pulling out a large disk   
on a chain. Punching the center of the disk, she was relieved to see it turn   
red. Harry never had his three hours in a tech lab, but nonetheless he had   
managed to build a portable transmitter that emitted the frequency required by   
the suppression chip. As long as everyone remained within twenty meters of   
Kathryn and the small, mobile transmitter she wore around her neck, they should   
be all right. "The transmitter is active. You'd better go."  
Emanni was two steps from her console when the door to the Dock opened and   
Kas-kas'l, the Assistant Director of the Department, walked in. "Hold that   
shipment, Emanni. The fuel pods go to the Peacekeeper, not the Enforcer. We just   
got a priority one requisition."  
The color drained from Emanni's face. Kathryn silently willed Emanni to remain   
calm. "You can't do that, Kas. Everything's programmed. We can get more pods to   
the Peacekeeper in the morning."  
"They authorized overtime," he said. "They don't want to wait until morning. You   
got a problem?"  
Emanni looked at Kathryn, her eyes suddenly blue with panic. The transport   
system was almost entirely automated. The plan called for the pods, and the two   
containers the women intended to hide in, to be designated for the Enforcer.   
That meant they would be deposited at the only berth that currently had repair   
shuttles docked at it, and Hrano had been able to obtain the security code for   
access. The Peacekeeper was on the other side of shipyard; it might as well be   
on the other side of the galaxy.  
"There's no problem," Kathryn said. She pulled a tool from her belt and aimed at   
the pod. "You got here just in time. I've changed the code."  
"Good," he said, and frowned at Emanni. "You seem awfully anxious to get out of   
here."  
She managed to shrug. "It's been a long day and I have plans."  
He made a hrumphing noise, and left. Emanni said, "What do we do? We can't be   
more than twenty meters from the men - your transmitter won't reach any   
farther."  
"We change the codes so we all go to the same place," Kathryn said. She had   
changed the codes on all the pods and two cargo containers. "Get in, fast. We're   
almost out of time."  
Emanni hurried over and climbed into the large, barrel-shaped container. "What   
do we do when we get there?"  
"Improvise."  
"You're a cool one, aren't you?"  
"Apparently," Kathryn said, and closed the lid. Then she climbed into the next   
one and pulled the lid into place.  
*****  
Tuvok sat in the same conference room in which he had met with General Tenglis   
the day before, but the room was much more crowded. The ambassadors of the   
Grevel-Ash, Vordai and the Minenne sat at the conference table, with Dasson Vre,   
Lam and Shertra sitting directly behind them. General Tenglis was backed by an   
officer who was apparently an aide or immediate subordinate and flanked by the   
Chief Oligarch. Tuvok had brought Neelix along not just for his insights but   
also to keep the numbers balanced.  
"Your accusation is outrageous," Tenglis said calmly. "You have each lost ships.   
That does not mean that Gunrath is at fault. I suggest you look to the   
weaknesses in your own fleets."  
"We've done that," the Grevel-Ash ambassador replied. "In fact, we've done that   
for far too long. Thanks to Commander Tuvok, we began looking at other   
possibilities. And those possibilities point here."  
The Chief Oligarch spoke in a rich and sonorous voice. "Possibilities are not   
worth the threat of war. You have shown us circumstantial evidence that we have   
explained."  
"Then let us scan your planet," Tuvok suggested. "We can quickly rule out the   
presence of any Humans."  
"And learn about our defensive capabilities," Tenglis said with a snort.   
"Unacceptable."  
"Perhaps," the Minenne ambassador said in a voice that was almost a purr, "you   
would prefer that we learn about your defensive capabilities in another way. We   
could put them to the test."  
Tenglis's mouth twisted into a sneer. "Threats, Ambassador? Have you forgotten   
what happened the last time the Minenne were foolish enough to attack us."  
"Ah, but that time we attacked alone." The Ambassador leaned back. "We would not   
make that mistake again."  
Tuvok spoke quickly, cutting off an angered Tenglis. "Talk of war is   
precipitous, gentlemen. My engineering team has only just been granted access to   
our shuttle. They may well discover evidence one way or the other. I suggest we   
refrain from threats, veiled or otherwise, until we receive their report."  
"Wisely spoken, Commander," the Chief Oligarch said.  
"We shall wait," the Grevel-Ash ambassador said, "but not for long. We will have   
an answer or there will be consequences." She looked directly at the Chief   
Oligarch. "Even now, a combined fleet of our three worlds is gathering at the   
Minenne-Grevel border. If they do not receive a satisfactory report from us by   
the end of the day, they have orders to attack."  
Neelix started, and Tuvok pulled back a little. "I was unaware of this."  
"Cooperation," said the Vordai ambassador. "Once you showed us we could work   
together, we realized our combined forces are a power to be reckoned with."  
*****  
Joe Carey stepped through airlock that connected the Gunrath shipyard to the   
docking hatch of the Copernicus and heard the voice of his superior echoing in   
his mind. "Be careful, Joe," B'Elanna had said to him as he left the ship. Too   
advanced in her pregnancy to come herself, she had selected him to go in her   
place with Vorik. "I've got an odd feeling about this. Just stay on your toes,   
okay?"  
Now, looking out the clear viewport of the airlock, he saw that she had been   
right. The Gunrath'u had placed the shuttle at the berth next to a battleship.   
Having that much power only fifteen meters away was intimidating - as, he   
realized, it was intended to be. The Gunrath'u were making a statement of some   
kind, but if it was anything more than 'don't mess with us,' he wasn't sure what   
it might be.  
Then he stepped through the docking hatch into the Copernicus and stopped   
abruptly. The shuttle had been grievously mistreated; panels wrenched from their   
hinges were strewn across the floor, conduits were exposed, and event the seats   
had been slashed so that cushion stuffing was spilling out.  
Behind him, Ensign Vorik stopped short. "The Gunrath'u have an interesting   
salvage technique."  
"Salvage my Aunt Fanny. They were trying to steal our technology. Look at your   
tricorder - they tried to remove the warp core manually."  
Vorik looked at the reading and frowned. "It appears they tried to phaser the   
locking mechanism."  
"They're lucky they didn't blow up the whole shipyard." Joe moved forward, to   
the pilot's seat. "They went after the computer, too, but the logs are still   
intact." He sat down and ran his hands over the controls. "The last entry is by   
Commander Chakotay. They'd just been contacted by a Gunrath'u ship. There's no   
mention of an evacuation or of an attack." Moving quickly, he copied the log   
into his tricorder. "I'm going to check the technical data records next. See if   
the engines are operational."  
"If they weren't attacked and didn't evacuate-"  
"You've got it. If they weren't attacked and didn't evacuate, they were probably   
taken prisoner." Joe didn't add aloud, 'and perhaps executed.' He didn't have   
to; he knew that Vorik understood the possibility as well as he.  
*****  
Kathryn reminded herself that at this stage of the plan, everything should go   
smoothly. The transport system from the factories to the shipyard was completely   
automated. Pods and containers were scanned for destination code and routed to   
robotic cargo ship and delivered to the intended warehouse dock. When it worked   
properly, it was efficient and timely, with deliveries taking less than two   
hours.  
But when it didn't work properly, when a conveyor stuck or the scanner misread   
the codes, it could take hours to straighten out the mess.  
Cramped into the cargo container intended to hold comm system components,   
Kathryn began to wonder if something had gone wrong. It was hard to tell if the   
container was still moving. She had a timepiece but couldn't move to see it. It   
felt as if she had been curled up in the same position for at least a day and   
the container seemed to be shrinking.  
She had to laugh at herself. Only a while ago, she had been afraid that one of   
the men might be claustrophobic and it turned out she was the one with a touch   
of it.  
Then she felt a jerk and realized it was from inertia. The container had finally   
stopped. She tried to raise her arms to lift the lid, but they refused to   
cooperate. Her muscles were completely frozen.  
Finally she heard the release knob twist and someone pulled the lid off for her.   
As light streamed in, she raised her eyes - her neck didn't want to move, either   
- and saw Chakotay looking down. "Don't just stand there," she said. "Get me   
out."  
Grinning with relief, he took hold of her by the arms and hauled her up. Muscles   
screamed in protest at being made to stretch again. "Rough trip?" he asked,   
rubbing her upper arms briskly.  
"I've had better." She saw Emanni emerge from her container with ease. The   
Minenne must have taffy instead of muscle, Kathryn thought sourly. "We had a   
glitch."  
"What?"  
She explained briefly about the last second re-routing. "So we are on the   
opposite side of the shipyard."  
Hrano came over, looking pale. "We'll never make it. Our only chance to get into   
one of the repair shuttles is if we snatch it while the second shift is still in   
briefing. It's only a five minute window, and it happens in twenty minutes. It   
will take us at least half an hour to get across the station."  
Kathryn and Emanni both had a general idea of the layout of the shipyard. It was   
actually a disk-shaped space station, divided into thirty-two section. The   
sections were accessed through a turbolift in the center, which simply rotated   
to each area on a timed basis, every two minutes, taking just over an hour for   
one complete rotation. They had to go from section 7 to section 29, so Hrano's   
estimate was optimistic. There were no shafts or tubes to provide alternate   
access.  
Chakotay looked around the warehouse, and Kathryn said, "There aren't any hidden   
staircases. Trust me."  
His eyes locked on something and he smiled with satisfaction. "Not hidden. But   
there are guide ladders out there."  
"EVA?" She followed his gaze. There was a storage area filled with   
Extra-Vehicular Activity suits.  
Hrano looked unhappy. "You want us to go outside? Into space? But I've never   
done that."  
"First time for everything, my friend," Chakotay said. "Come on."  
*****  
  
"The impulse engines are functional," Vorik reported. "However, the main plasma   
conduit is missing."  
Joe turned around and stared at him. "The plasma conduit? Why in the name of St.   
Patrick would anyone take the plasma conduit?"  
"The Gunrath'u use a liquid fuel. Perhaps they thought the conduit could be   
adapted for their purposes."  
"These people are about as honest as the Ferengi." Joe shook his head in   
disgust. "There was no attack on this shuttle. Weapons never came on line and   
shields were never raised. They were taken by surprise, which means the   
Gunrath'u used stealth or deception. I wonder if they have some kind of cloaking   
capability."  
"It might be useful to examine the hull to see if there is evidence of   
microfractures."  
"A tractor beam? Good idea. You get a suit on and check the hull. If they were   
tractored, there'll be evidence - microfractures, energy scorches, something.   
I'll keep working in here. I want to know what's working, what's broken but   
fixable and what's missing."  
  
*****  
  
"I suggest we do a waistline tether," Kathryn said. She was fully suited except   
for the helmet. "You all have to stay within ten meters of the transmitter I'm   
wearing, and if one of us floats away..."  
Harry picked up the line, threaded it through the loop on the suit that seemed   
to exist for just that purpose and handed it to Hrano. He tried to emulate Harry   
without success. "Here," Harry said. "Nothing to it."  
"Easy for you to say." Hrano was still quite pale. "You've done this before."  
"Not that I remember."  
"You put that suit on like it was your work uniform. I never felt so clumsy."  
"Don't worry," Emanni said, attaching the line. "Just keep your eyes on the   
person in front of you. You'll be all right."  
"Everyone set?" Chakotay asked. "Then let's go."  
They all put the helmets on and sealed them. Emanni checked Hrano's to be   
certain he'd done it correctly. Then, using the access codes Hrano had obtained,   
Kathryn opened the airlock and they stepped through.  
*****  
Joe cursed silently. According to the data Vorik was transmitting, the hull of   
the shuttle was riddled with microfractures. It had been tractored, and not   
gently. It was remotely possible that this had happened before the Gunrath'u   
ship arrived on the scene, but he doubted it. "You were right, Vorik," he said   
over the comm system. "This ship was grabbed by a tractor beam. I don't see any   
evidence of weapons yet, but keep looking."  
"Lieutenant, something odd is happening at the shipyard. You should be able to   
see from the port side of the cockpit."  
He worked his way up to the co-pilot's seat and swiveled hard to port. Vorik was   
right. Five people had just emerged from the station, tethered together at the   
waist. They had climbed up a ladder on the side of the port and had just reached   
the expanse of roof that covered the entire station, heading toward the   
Copernicus and away from the Gunrath'u battleship. One of them was moving   
clumsily, slowing everybody else down. But it was the first two in the line who   
grabbed his attention. There was something about their size and the way they   
moved that made it impossible for him to look away.  
As the five made their way arduously across the flat roof of the station, Joe   
realized what had captured his attention. "Vorik," he said into the commlink,   
"look at the way they are walking."  
The first two walkers and the last one were moving with confidence, using the   
heavy step technique taught at the Academy. The third was also moving with   
confidence, but using a step-glide-step that Joe had never seen before. The   
fourth wasn't using any kind of technique; he recognized a first time space   
walker when he saw one.  
"Indeed," Vorik said. "It appears that three of them have had Starfleet   
training. Although it could be a coincidence, Lieutenant. Other races could have   
developed the same method."  
"Perhaps," he said, turning back to the main console. B'Elanna's admonition to   
keep his eyes open was ringing in his mind. "Keep on eye on them. I'm going to   
try scanning them."  
"The short range sensors were offline," came the response.  
"Damn." Frustrated, he turned back to look out of the cockpit again.  
*****  
Hrano tripped and lost his footing. The inertia of the movement lifted him into   
the air and he started to tumble. From behind him, Harry pulled the tether and   
hauled him back into position. They had no communications between them since the   
only system was tied into the shipyard's operations, so Harry simply gave him an   
encouraging pat on the back.  
As he did so, he noticed for the first time the ship that was berthed less than   
twenty meters away. It was small, a shuttle probably, but it was the markings   
that caught his eye. NCC 74656. Copernicus. The letters were easy to read and   
completely different from the Gunrath'u alphabet he'd been struggling with for   
six weeks. He looked over his shoulder to Emanni and pointed, trying to signal   
his curiosity. She peered at the markings and then raised her hands to indicate   
that she had no idea.  
Harry reached forward and tapped Hrano on the shoulder and got him to do the   
same to Kathryn. She signaled Chakotay and they all stopped to look at the   
shuttle.  
*****  
Joe watched the group of space walkers as they stopped and turned in his   
direction. He couldn't see their faces, couldn't tell whether or not they were   
Human, but every instinct was telling him that they were. He was certain of it.  
Then he saw something they didn't see. Behind them, another airlock was opening.   
Someone was coming out after them. Seven walkers came out quickly and began   
heading for the others. They moved as one in a step-glide-step rhythm, moving   
steadily, until they stopped, and one of them extended an arm, as if pointing -   
or aiming a weapon - at the first five.  
Joe saw the yellow-white streak of a phaser firing.  
*****  
  
Kathryn saw the stream of light blaze above her head and stopped. Turning, she   
saw that they were being followed. Two of the other walkers were gesturing at   
them to return, while another had a weapon pointed at them. The first shot had   
been intentionally high, she realized, to get their attention.  
The message was clear: come back or be killed.  
She looked at the others, wishing desperately that they had some means of   
communication. The way she saw it, they were probably dead no matter what; if   
they surrendered, they'd die when the portable transmitter gave out or was taken   
away or else they would be killed later because of what they knew. If she had to   
die, she preferred to die fighting. But she wasn't alone, and they had to do   
what they did as a group.  
The others were looking at her, waiting for her to do something. Somehow this   
had become her decision.  
All right, then. She reached with her right hand toward Chakotay, and he grasped   
it. She turned away from the guards. "Courage," she said, and pointed to the   
stars.  
They all took a step forward.  
*****  
"Vorik!" Joe shouted, scrambling for the aft of the shuttle. "Are the shuttle   
transporters functional?"  
"Yes."  
"I'm bringing those walkers on board, then you. Be ready when you materialize."  
"Ready for what, Lieutenant?"  
"Anything," he snapped, calculating the coordinates for the transport on the   
fly. He really wished B'Elanna were there, she was much better at this sort of   
thing than he was.  
In a moment, two of the walkers stood on the transporter pad. "Step down   
quickly," he said, trying to calculate the coordinates for the next two. "Vorik!   
What's happening? Have they moved?"  
*****  
Harry stared in disbelief as Kathryn and Chakotay disappeared. Transporter, he   
thought, but who? Where? Not too far, or he'd be dead; Kathryn and the portable   
transmitter must still be within twenty meters. That meant she was either on the   
Peacekeeper behind them or the Copernicus in front of them. He looked again at   
the small shuttle and noticed that there was someone clinging to its hull,   
facing them.  
Emanni was suddenly in the lead, and she hesitated. She and Hrano both turned   
toward him, as if seeking instruction. Harry pointed toward the shuttle and   
tried to signal her to head in that direction. She turned and began to move   
where he indicated.  
Then he saw another white stab of light flash by, missing them all. He gestured   
again, thinking, Hurry, hurry.  
Hrano stumbled, lost his footing, and started to fall away from the station.   
Harry and Emanni each grabbed hold of the waistline tether and tried to pull him   
back. Hrano reached a hand toward Emanni and she stretched to grasp it.  
And another flash of light streaked and caught her in the chest.  
*****  
  
"One of the walkers has been hit by phaser fire," Vorik reported over the comm   
system.  
"Damn." Joe moved as quickly as he dared without confirmed coordinates or   
sensors. A rapid movement, and two more walkers materialized, but one fell over   
at once. "Get out of the way," he said urgently. "I've got to get the rest in."  
He didn't look up from the console as the first two helped with the wounded   
walker. In a moment, he had the fifth walker on board, and finally he brought   
Vorik in.  
Only then did he look up from the board to see who he had just rescued. The   
sight caused him to draw in his breath sharply. Lt. Kim, Commander Chakotay and   
the Captain had removed their helmets and were looking down at the injured   
walker, a Minenne woman, lying in the arms of a Gunrath'u man.  
The woman look up at the man who held her, her eyes a deep gold color that   
seemed to leaching out into her skin. She raised one hand slightly, as if   
reaching for him. He caught it in his still-gloved hand. "Emanni," he said, his   
voice choked.  
Janeway looked up. "Can you do something?"  
It was an odd question, Joe thought, but he said, "Of course." Moving awkwardly   
in the crowded shuttle, he found the medikit and removed the medical scanner and   
quickly checked the woman - Emanni, he corrected himself.  
Emanni kept her eyes fixed on the man, and then said in a voice that was mostly   
a sigh, "No time," and closed her eyes.  
Joe watched as the readings on the scanner went to flatline. "I'm sorry. She   
didn't make it."  
"No," the Gunrath'u man looked up at her with desperation in his eyes. He held   
the body of the woman as closely as he could while they were both in bulky   
suits. "No, help her, please. Please help her."  
"I'm sorry," Joe said again. The man's obvious grief moved him to pity, but at   
the same time he was feeling lost, as if he had missed some important briefing.   
"Captain, what happened?" When Janeway didn't answer immediately, he looked to   
the others. "Commander? Lieutenant?"  
Finally the Captain said, "Do you know us?"  
"Of course I know you." Joe looked at each of them, noting the slightly anxious   
and questioning looks. "But you don't know me, do you?" he asked slowly, just   
beginning to comprehend. "What happened to you?"  
"Their memories have been erased," the Gunrath'u said in a dull voice, "so that   
they would work in the factories."  
"Good God," he breathed, stunned. Then he remembered the walkers with the   
weapons coming out of the airlock. "We'll deal with that later. Vorik, get the   
shields up. Are they working?"  
"Fifty percent."  
The communications system began to beep, and Joe shouldered his way to the   
pilot's seat. "Lieutenant Ca-Ree," a pinched voice said, accenting the second   
syllable of his name, "you transported station personnel into your shuttle."  
"Damn straight. Only they weren't exactly station personnel, were they? Look, I   
see six - no, seven - armed people heading my way. Unless you want an   
interplanetary incident, call them off. Now."  
"Unauthorized use of a transporter-"  
He cut the voice off and quickly entered another frequency. "Carey to Tuvok."  
"Yes, Lieutenant. How is the examination progressing?"  
"Fine. Are you with the ambassadors?"  
"Yes. All of the ambassadors and Oligarch Tenglis. Have you been able to   
determine what may have happened to our crew?"  
"I think we can say with complete certainty that they were impressed by the   
Gunrath'u."  
"Impressed?"  
"Shanghaied. Taken against their will. Kidnapped."  
"Ridiculous!" a strange voice burst over the comm "A complete lie. Show us the   
data."  
Before Joe could answer, the Gunrath'u man shouted, "Listen to me, General. This   
is Hrano. I don't care what you do to me now. It's all true. The Gunrath'u fleet   
has been seizing ships and taking the crews. I'll testify in any forum you   
want."  
Then Captain Janeway said quickly, "My name is Kathryn. Kathryn Janeway. Don't   
let them turn off the transmitter on the island. They can kill all the prisoners   
almost instantly."  
The comm began to blink rapidly, meaning that another signal was incoming. "One   
more thing," Joe said. "There's a boarding party about fifteen meters from our   
hatch. They've already killed one of the Captain's party. If they don't back   
off, I'm going to have to start shooting."  
In the conference room, all eyes were fixed on Tenglis and the Chief Oligarch.   
Tuvok said, "General, Lieutenant Carey is an excellent marksman."  
"Indeed," added the Grevel-Ash ambassador. "It would be most unfortunate if   
anything happened to the people in that shuttle. Or anywhere else."  
Sitting stiffly, Tenglis looked around the room. He was met with stony silence   
from everyone, including the Chief Oligarch. Finally Tenglis motioned to the   
aide seated behind him, who nodded once and rose. "No one will be harmed."  
"So much for the vaunted word of the Gunrath'u," the Grevel-Ash ambassador said   
coldly. "How many other lies have we been told?" Rising, he turned to the other   
ambassadors. "I must inform my government. This will be viewed as an act of   
war."  
"Shouldn't recovering our citizens be our first priority?" the Minenne   
ambassador asked.  
"Of course, but this affront cannot go unpunished."  
"No. It cannot." The Minenne ambassador turned to the Chief Oligarch. "There   
must be consequences, highly visible consequences. Or, I am very much afraid   
there will be war."  
The Chief Oligarch rose. "Gentleman, I assure you that this unfortunate incident   
will be dealt with." He paused. "The important thing now is that we focus on   
overcoming this without making hasty decisions we would all regret."  
"And what do you suggest?" the Vordai ambassador asked bitterly. "That we just   
forget the entire incident?"  
"We will of course make reparations to your people and your worlds. And we will   
issue a formal apology."  
"It's a beginning," the Minenne ambassador said. "But it isn't enough."  
The Chief Oligarch nodded. "No. I suppose it isn't." He stood, and turned to his   
left. "General Tenglis, you are under arrest for crimes against the Oligarchy."  
Tenglis stared at him. "You are going to make me the scapegoat for this?"  
"Someone has to take the blame," the Chief Oligarch said calmly. "You have   
another opportunity to serve your world, Tenglis. You have often told me that   
the price of peace is high. It's time for you to pay it."  
For several seconds, Tenglis stared at the Chief Oligarch in a seeming battle of   
wills. Finally, he shrugged. "As you say." He stood and turned to leave the   
room, then turned. "It was necessary," he said. "Without us, without a strong   
Gunrath, you would have been at each others' throats years ago."  
"And that," the Chief Oligarch said when Tenglis was gone, "brings up a very   
interesting point that we have all refused to acknowledge before now: this   
sector can no longer continue as it has been. We must evolve into something   
else."  
"What do you mean?" the Minenne ambassador asked.  
"If we continue as warring factions, we will never advance beyond our present   
state. We may even destroy one another." He looked around the table. "Today you   
proved you can act as a cooperative, if not unified, whole. Surely that is the   
foundation for our future." He turned to Tuvok. "Will you tell us more of your   
Federation? From what I've heard, its principles may be applicable to our   
situation."  
"Gladly," Tuvok said.  
  
EPILOGUE  
The Day After  
  
She drifted in a blue-white fog, feeling pleasantly light. It was like floating,   
she thought, floating on a lake on an early autumn day, when the sun was still   
high but the air starting to turn cool. The smell was wrong, though. The smell   
was sterile, like a laboratory where they worked on delicate equipment. But she   
was lying down. Why would she be lying down in a laboratory?  
Of course. She wasn't in a laboratory. She was in Sickbay, on Voyager. She was   
once again Captain Kathryn Janeway, commander of a starship that was alone in   
the Delta Quadrant. Probing gently, she tested all her memories and found them   
intact, beginning with her earliest recollections through childhood,   
adolescence, the Academy, and then her career. She remembered the Delta Quadrant   
and the Borg.  
She remembered the last six weeks on Gunrath.  
"Ah, Captain," the Doctor said. She realized he was standing beside the biobed,   
hovering over the monitor. "How do you feel? Any headache? Disorientation?"  
"No," she said slowly. "There's no headache. And my memory has returned   
completely."  
He smiled, without any trace of self-congratulation, and she wondered if he was   
relieved. Then he took her arm and removed a wrist band. A transmitter, she   
remembered. The Chief Oligarch had ordered that she, Chakotay and Harry each be   
given functional transmitters so they could leave with Tuvok as quickly as   
possible. "Good. It was really a fairly simple procedure. The information the   
Gunrath'u gave us was correct; the restraining chip was also the mechanism that   
suppressed your memory. Remove it, and you're as good as new."  
She sat up. "The others?"  
"Commander Chakotay is still unconscious. I discharged Lieutenant Kim a few   
minutes ago. Like you, he seems to have recovered completely."  
"What about Emanni?" They had brought her body back to Voyager at Tuvok's   
suggestion, to see if the healing nanoprobes could restore her.  
His face fell. "I'm sorry, Captain. It was too late. There was nothing we could   
do for her." He paused, then added, "The irony is, she probably could have left   
the planet at any time."  
"What do you mean?"  
"She had a recessive gene that neutralized the effects of the restraining chip.   
Her brain was able to quarantine it and build new pathways around it.   
Apparently, something less than one-tenth of one percent of the Minenne have   
this gene."  
He walked over to a nearby cart and picked up a datapad which he handed to her.   
"Hrano has taken her body back to her home. He left this for you."  
The message was short. "Kathryn," it said,  
I doubt that I will see you or Chakotay again. My hope is to remain on Minenne,   
at least for a while, so I can find Emanni's son and tell him about her. After   
that, I don't know. It's certain I cannot return to Gunrath. But I want you and   
Chakotay to know that I will spend the rest of my life trying to improve   
relations between the four worlds so that nothing like this ever happens again.   
Your forgiveness is not something I expect, but please believe me that I will   
never stop trying to earn it.  
Eyes misting, she set the PADD down. Hrano had to lose everything that mattered   
to him before he found his moral center; now that it seemed he had, she found   
she could not hate him. In a way, he was as much a victim of his culture as   
Emanni. Blinking twice, she turned to the Doctor. "When can I return to duty?"  
"As soon as you want to," he said, "although I would recommend that you rest   
today and start tomorrow."  
"Thank you," she said, and slid from the bed.  
"You're not going to listen to me, are you?" He sounded resigned.  
She smiled. "Not this time, Doctor. I've got to find out what's been happening   
on my ship."  
At the end of the bed she stopped and turned toward the bed where Chakotay lay.   
His eyes were closed, and for the first time she experienced a feeling of slight   
disorientation as she recognized the face of her lover and of her First Officer.   
The dichotomy made her dizzy, and she reached down to steady herself.  
"Captain? Are you all right?"  
"Yes," she said slowly, not looking at him. Her attention was fixed on Chakotay,   
and she walked over to his bedside.  
He seemed to be peacefully asleep, his face in repose familiar to her now. She   
touched his cheek gently even though she couldn't disturb the drug-induced   
sleep, and she smiled. For one last moment she allowed herself to be Kathryn,   
the Logistics and Transport technician, looking at her lover. Then the smile   
faded and she straightened, and turned back to the Doctor. "When will the   
Commander be ready for duty?"  
The Doctor was looking at her with something that was uncomfortably close to   
sympathy. "In about two hours. Although he, too, should rest until tomorrow."  
"When he wakes, please tell him I'd like to speak to him in my ready room as   
soon as he's up to it." She heard the briskness in her voice. It was   
surprisingly simple to return to command mode. "And please ask Mr. Tuvok to meet   
me there in half an hour. I'll need a briefing on the status of the ship."  
"Yes, Captain." He spoke quietly. "You know, you went through a lot in the past   
six weeks. You should take some time to process it before you make any decisions   
about ... anything."  
"Thank you, Doctor," she said, more harshly than she intended but it was hard to   
keep her feelings under control. It was bad enough having to deal with the   
ramifications of her relationship with Chakotay without having other people know   
about it. Then she turned and left.  
***  
Three hours later, she sat on the sofa of her ready room, pouring her third cup   
of coffee since leaving Sickbay, when he came in, looking relaxed and rested and   
holding an apple. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"  
It was an entirely professional question delivered in an entirely professional   
tone, and part of her wanted to cry when she heard it. She wanted to tell him   
how she felt, to ask him to come cook with her tonight so they could talk things   
through. That desire was quickly stifled. She decided to start with business,   
and stood. "We've got good news, Commander. Tuvok tells me that all four worlds   
have agreed to help us with repairs. I gather the Vordai and the Minenne feel   
genuinely sorry about what happened, and the Gunrath'u and the Grevel-Ash simply   
want us gone as quickly as possible."  
"That is good news," he said. "Was there anything else?"  
"B'Elanna is certain now that the transwarp failure wasn't sabotage. Apparently   
it was a cascade event triggered by the prolonged sonic stress - the harmonics   
amplified the discrepancies between the technologies."  
"Yes, I saw the report. I meant, if there is nothing more you need me for, I   
should get back to work."  
Unconsciously, she straightened and stood at attention as perfectly as a cadet.   
"We need to talk, Chakotay."  
A soft, sad chuckle escaped him. "No, we don't. I know what you're going to say.   
Consider it said."  
She blinked, completely surprised. She had steeled herself for an emotional   
confrontation, for impassioned pleas or cold anger, but this calm, almost   
cheerful acceptance caught her off guard. "Well. Good." She swallowed. "It   
really is for the best."  
"I'm sure you're right."  
Surprise began to turn to irritation. "I wish it could be different, but it   
can't. Not under our current circumstances."  
"If you say so."  
"It's not strictly against regulations, but it just wouldn't be a good idea. I   
can't afford to compromise my command by muddying things up between us. We have   
to be an effective command team even if that means sacrificing our personal   
desires."  
"You're right. If there's nothing else, I should go. Paris is waiting to brief   
me on his filing system."  
Nonplussed, she said, "Yes, go on." He was almost to the door when she said,   
"Wait a minute. Why aren't you arguing with me?"  
He turned. "About what?"  
"About us, dammit. About what happened on that planet. About how I made you   
promise that things wouldn't change, and now I'm the one changing them. About   
how stinking unfair it is that this has happened to us twice."  
"Sounds like you know the arguments," he said. "You don't need me to me to point   
them out."  
She caught her breath. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"  
"Perhaps," he said, with a slight smile. Then he became serious again. "The   
bottom line is, you aren't ready. No matter how close we were before this   
happened, no matter what happened on the planet, you just aren't ready."  
Suddenly she felt close to tears. "No. I'm not. Can you forgive me?"  
"Do you remember the Lotos eaters?"  
The non sequitor had her mind reeling. "Tennyson? What does that have to do with   
anything?"  
"Homer, actually. The Odyssey." He began walking toward her slowly. "Odysseus   
sent a landing party ashore to search for food. They ate a fruit called the   
Lotos and it was so delicious that they forgot all about trying to get home.   
They just wanted to enjoy the fruit. Odysseus had to take them back to the ship   
by force."  
He was coming closer, moving into her space, but she held her ground. "Yes, I   
remember."  
"I've been wondering what happened after that. Do you suppose they ever stopped   
wishing for more of that fruit?"  
He was too close now, she thought. Her body was responding to his nearness, to   
his scent. She should back away, get to safety. She didn't. She had to prove, to   
herself as much as to him, that she could stand this. "I doubt it," she said   
slowly, "but they learned to live without it. They had to, to get home."  
"Perhaps," he said. "But perhaps something else happened." He bent his head   
toward her and spoke softly, barely more than a whisper. "Perhaps they brought a   
seed back with them. And even though they thought it couldn't survive on the   
ship, they planted it. And with enough time and enough care, the seed grew and   
they were able to enjoy the fruit and get home."  
She refused to look at his eyes. If she did, she'd be lost. "That's not what   
Homer said."  
"Homer left it to our imagination." He stepped back suddenly, leaving her   
feeling confused again. "I really am late for that meeting with Paris and if I   
don't decipher his filing codes, we'll lose six weeks of reports."  
"Well." She hoped she didn't appear as rattled as she felt. "Mustn't let that   
happen."  
He started to leave, then stopped and turned around. Before she realized what he   
intended he pulled her to him and kissed her. Her body reacted before her mind,   
and she held him closely. The kiss was sweet and long and filled with promises;   
it conjured memories of dancing on the pier, of walking on the beach, of   
cuddling in the dark. She felt as if she were falling, gently, from the stars to   
the earth. Then it was over, and she opened her eyes.  
Chakotay was already at the door, but he turned again and grinned at her,   
looking extremely satisfied. Without warning, he tossed the apple to her. "I'm a   
patient man, Kathryn. I can wait for seeds to grow."  
With that, he left, leaving her staring at the door with a dumbfounded   
expression. Then she looked at the apple that she held, and murmured, "The   
question is, can I?"  
-the end-  
  
Author's Note: Acknowledgements to Bryan Fuller and Ken Biller, who wrote the   
episode "Workforce," and Alfred Lord Tennyson, who wrote "The Lotos-Eaters" and   
oh, yes, to Homer, who wrote "The Odyssey." I borrowed from these sources but   
hopefully added something original. Thanks to the entire 7.5 team and especially   
Lt. Bonner, Christina and Rocky for their help. Thanks also to Diane Bellomo for   
a last minute-beta read. 


End file.
